Free for a Second AU
by southernefx
Summary: An assassin and a thief- An Alternate Universe fanfic featuring Rogue and Gambit. 'Nuff said...REVIEWS PLEASE!
1. Free for a Second Part 1

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
The characters below are based on the creations of Marvel. I'm not getting paid for this, so put that tho't of suing me away! :D  
**  
Note:**   
This is an Alternate X-men kinda story, where you may recognize Remy and Rogue's personalities, but they're in entirely different situations. Right here, it's like a Nikita and 9 1/2 weeks clash or something. If you've read Alexandra's Elseworlds story on the Net, then this is something like it. :)

Vicki Lew | June 1997

**Part One**

The gun was held steady by a pair of lithe, well-toned arms.

The eyes looking down the crosshair were of a brilliant green, and they sparkled from the moonlight.

Passionately red lips curved into a smile as her target came into view,but it disappeared instantly as the slightly plump man dropped out of view from the apartment's window.

"Dang!"

It was a great site to be; in the hills next to the executive block of high-class apartments, but this guy was a pain-in-the-butt.

"Ain't never come across such a hyperactive lard-tub of a man. Figured he'd just sit there like a duck." she muttered under her breath. "Guess ah thought wrong,"

She tossed her gun down and rolled her stiff shoulders, massaged her arms. Picking up her bottle of vodka, she took a swig and brushed off some dirt from her black catsuit.

Five hours of waiting had made her more than a little pissed; she wished she could just barge in on the senator and just rip his throat out. That was more fun than this shooting gallery-style execution. She ran her fingers through her auburn hair, which had a unique bleached streak running down the middle of it.

Tonight she would go back to the motel and crash. Tomorrow she'd wake up groggy, but she'll freshen up, go kill another political figure and get away with it.

What a life.

But she'd been stuck with it ever since 'they' picked her off the streets five years ago, when she was barely 16. It was a rainy night; the son-of-a-bitch that was her father had tried to touch her again, and when she refused and struggled, she got a black eye for her insolence. Tired of putting up with the wastrel, she ran away from home with nothing but the clothes on her back. For days, she was scared, homeless and hungry -- she couldn't, and wouldn't go back to being her father's slave and punching bag.

Anything but that.

But after days of starvation, she was forced to shoplift in a general store, and she got caught. She remembered being so terrified that she nearly puked her guts out, but when the disgusting store owner started to feel her up at gunpoint, something inside her snapped.

The woman's eyes narrowed as she relived that one moment that she'd felt his grubby hands beginning to crawl up her young body, flew into a rage and grabbed his gun. How she didn't even flinch as she blew the bastard's brains out. Naturally, she got arrested, but not for long. Someone bought her out of the slammer and a certain death charge. She got sent into the secret school, where she was fed and clothed, groomed and trained to be a killer for the government. She never looked back from then on. Until today.

Suddenly she sat very still, polishing her rifle, like nothing was seriously wrong. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a figure, kneeling quietly behind the bushes. Her fingers reached for the small knife stuck in her boot, and as soon as she felt the smooth, cold steel, she launched the knife at the intruder.

"Whoa!"

She blinked in amazement as the man stepped out of the shadows. Her mouth gaped slightly open against her will; he had actually caught the blade!! And she thought she was the only one who could do that!

"Shouldn't be playin' with knives, petit,"

She was momentarily mesmerized by his husky voice and seductive accent, but she compromised by whipping out a silencer gun.

"Very impressive, sugar. But ah honestly think that you're a dead man walkin'." Her finger caressed the trigger warningly. "Stay right there and you'll be safe."

"I jus' though we could put up a deal."

He boldly stepped up and stooped in front of her, where the gun barrel was pointing at his head. His eyes scared her slightly; it took a lot to really spook her. They were red on black, glowing like coals in a fire...

Normally, she would've killed him straight off. But this one was just too good-looking and a charmer to boot. That irresistable unshaven look, that chiselled face. Just dreamy.

She gave him a little amused smile and drawled, "Wha'cha got?" Watching him draw out a cigarette and light it, she wondered if she was going soft.

"Oh, nothin' much. Jus' that de both of us, we can take out dat tough security down dere and get done wit' de job. All I wan' is to take his good stuff. It'd look like a robbery; even better, non?"

Her gun stayed there, but she had an expression of the slightest interest. He noted that regal arch of her eyebrows as she contemplated the offer.

"Well, Cajun --you are Cajun, ain'cha?" Nod of the head. "Ah don't usually take up offers like yours, but there comes a point where it gets so borin'...Ya got yourself a deal, hon."

He cocked his head and grinned. "Good. Je m'appelle Remy. Remy LeBeau."

Brazenly, he scooped her hand up and kissed it, even with a gun barrel pointing at his head. A coy smile twitched at her lips as she finally lowered the gun.

"Enchante, ah'm sure. Just call me Rogue. Now let's get ta work,"

She packed up her stuff as Remy tried to make conversation.

"Where ya from? Kentucky, Mississippi? C'mon, I like t'know a fellow Southerner; me, I'm from de Big Easy," No response. He tried again. "How come ya called Rogue, hehn? I'm sure ya got a real name dat's beautiful...Like you."

A flush creeped up her face, but the dark surroundings didn't allow him to see it. Why was he affecting her like this? She didn't trust anyone, but yet why was she allowing him to work with her? What if he was planning to set her up?

Somehow, she didn't care anymore. Killing for the government just to stay alive herself had turned her into an animal. If tonight was the night for her to die, then so be it, at least she would've had some fun and the company of a gorgeous man. She smiled to herself again.

She hadn't smiled this much for a long time.

* * *

The wind played with their differently-shaded hair as they waited for the change of security guards behind a car parked in front of the building. That way they could get two of them at the same time. Rogue looked towards the thief, signalling silently that it was almost time. He nodded and slipped out a small but sharp blade; she, on the other hand, whipped out her trusty silencer gun, the only weapon she had brought with her.

"Let's do this, sugar."

Before she could move, his lips came down upon hers and his warm, velvety tongue caressed her mouth. It took her a while to react. But when she did, they could've started a whole forest fire. They parted just as they heard the security van coming round the bend. His eyes were like molten lava, glowing with desire, as opposed to her emerald ones that had gone smoky from the passionate contact.

As her eyes focussed on the approaching van, she demanded, "What the heck was that for?"

"For luck," was the cocky reply. "You are one good kisser, chere."

"Distract me again and ah'll kill ya," Rogue warned as she made a move for the van.

The vehicle slowed down as it came to the final turning into the gates of the premises; Remy ran up to the door and opened it, catching the guard by surprise, and punched his lights out. All this before the van had come into view of the other guard at the box. Rogue got into the driver's seat and had her gun ready when they passed the security-check box.

There was a slight whistling sound before the guard dropped unmovingly to the ground.

"Great moves, neh?"

"Ya could've made a wonderful assassin, Remy."

"Non, I born t'be a t'ief," he insisted.

Rogue manuvered the van into a shady corner behind the building. Remy cleaned his blade on the seat and got out.

"How many guards inside?"

She looked up at the brightly-lit building. "There're five, six maybe in the whole building. No problem. These senators are bloody rich, but they never seem to splurge on the security...Cheapskates."

There was a bout of soft chuckling as they made for the front door.

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Free for a Second Part 2

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:  
** I am a millionare. Not. But compared to Marvel, who owns all of the characters below (except for the occasional cockroach or mouse).  
  
Vicki Lew | June 1997

**Part Two  
**  
Whoo-eee.  
  
Ya really outdone y'self dis time, Remy LeBeau. Got y'self an assasin dat's like livin' fire, beautiful and wit' de brains. You know she's a pro, she's lettin' you get t'her only because she be lettin' ya, for some reason.  
  
Right back to de action; one smooth stroke and she knocked de guard out at de security counter. I did de huffin' and puffin' part by haulin' de man into de broom closet down de hallway. Dese people never keep fit, do dey?  


I turned round to see Rogue goin' down to de systems room; she'd taken de guard's keycard and figured out de password.I ain't surprised. She's been stalkin' dis buildin' for close ta a week. I watched her as she busied herself with pryin' de cover off a ventilation shaft.  
  
I asked, "Wha'cha doin'? I tho't we were gonna go in an' gun down anyone in our way? What's dis I see instead?"  
  
Green fire from her expressive eyes burned through me.   
  
Bleeeep. Wrong answer, Mr LeBeau.  


Shit.  
  
"Ah *am* an assasin, Cajun. But that don't mean ah'm trigger-happy and gun down any redneck that ah want to!" She walked right up t'me and said in my face, "Ah am not a psychotic serial killer, ah only want t'kill my specific target, any others that die by my hand are the critical hinderances to my plan. Ah don't kill for fun, sir. Don't ya forget that."  


Backing away slowly, she got back to unscrewing the vent.  
  
"I'll keep dat in mind, p'tit. An' I'll keep my mouth shut too."  
  
Rogue nodded and tol' me to make m'self useful by disablin' de alarm system and cuttin' off de alert phone line. It wasn't much of a chore t'me. Havin' done dat, we both crawled up the ventilation shaft and got back on track of our li'l adventure. 

* * *

The barrel of the gun prodded him in the head.  
  
"Get'cha hands off my butt or lose 'em, mister." Remy shrugged and insisted that it was an accident, the shaft was dim and constricted. "Then my gun goin' off *might* be an accident too, sugar."  
  
"'Kay, 'kay, I get de idea."  
  
As Rogue turned back to crawling forward, she found herself with a smug grin on her face. She couldn't help it. This man's company had brought a little spark to the past 30 minutes of her life; she didn't realize that she had craved for company that bad.  


She stopped as they reached the end where the horizontal shaft took a turn up vertically, leading to the higher floors. Reaching for her belt, Rogue produced a barbed mini harpoon-gun, took aim and launched the anchored rope upwards of the vertical shaft. She tugged on the rope, making sure it was secure before hefting herself onto it.  
  
"Wait till ah get up there," she ordered her partner.  
  
"Why, chere, 'fraid I'll look up your skirt?" Remy teased.  
  
Looking down at him, Rogue smirked and pointed out, "Oh, but ah ain't wearin' a skirt; why don'cha sit down an' cry 'bout that?"  
  
She got her reply in chuckle form as she scaled the thin cable towards the opening of the shaft that snaked through the sixth level. Faintly, she heard the soft humming of a familiar-sounding zydeco tune below. It made her long for home back South. Her eyes welled up with unexpected moisture; she didn't think she could feel anymore.  
  
"Ya done yet?" The Cajun hissed. He got the muffled reply that she was almost there, so he continued humming his favourite tune and shuffling his playing cards. "Maybe ya should lay off all dat Southern fried chicken in a henny-penny batter, neh?"  
  
Silence.  
  
He leaned out to take a look, but retracted in a flash as a small blade came whizzing past where his head had been.   
  
Whoa.  
  
"You're lucky you're a thief with lightnin' reflexes," Rogue smirked as she perched from the square opening in the shaft wall a distance up. "C'mon, get'cha butt up here!"  
  
Rogue rolled her eyes as the infuriating man laughed his way up the rope. She was beginning to regret this...  


* * *

  
The vent covering rattled open softly, and a figure clad in black held on to the edge of the exposed outlet and did a smooth flip-over, descending down to the carpeted floor below silently. The other figure, more manly and fitted with a trenchcoat, did the same. She knew that round the corner, there would be two bodyguards by the door where her target resided.  
  
"Time for a li'l fun,"  
  
Slipping off her black jacket, and flipped it inside out, Rogue had herself a white jacket. Now she looked model slim, model pretty and model harmless. She noticed that the Cajun had fastened his eyes on her; she gave him a seductive smile, whereupon he began to feel a little hot under the collar. 

Now *that* was amusing.

Rogue raked her hand through her auburn hair, and slung the jacket over her shoulder before sauntering around the corner towards the two bodyguards. Sure enough, they drew her weapons at her; Rogue, playing the fragile woman, gave a slight scream and dropped the jacket to the floor in her 'shock'.  
  
"Mah goodness, ah didn't know it was that serious a crime t'be on the wrong floor!" she commented drily as the men apologized profusely and both bent to retrieve her jacket for her.  
  
There was a sudden burst of silent movement in the hallway; Remy LeBeau did several smooth somersaults and executed powerful kicks to each of the unwary guards, knocking them out instantly. When he was done, he grinned winningly at Rogue. She sniffed haughtily and called him a show-off.  
  
"Well, Mr Tubby won't be in until midnight, he's gone to his friend's downstairs ta share a nightcap;ya got an hour to get your loot. Now, get that door open, Cajun, and we'll drag these fellas inside like sacks o'potatoes," Rogue informed him as she stuck a sign that said, 'Gone for a break.'  
  
A little joke of hers.  
  
Remy whipped out his lockpicks and opened the door without so much of a breeze. He kicked it open and bowed low, sweeping his arm in a welcome gesture and said, "Ladies first, chere."  
  
Ironically, Rogue let out an unlady-like grunt as she struggled with the burly bodyguard and hissed through her teeth, "Why, thank ya kindly, sir...Now why don'cha HELP ME!!!"  
  
He straightened up in alarm and put his hand up over her mouth like lightning. His head darted around, looking out for danger but he found none. He hefted both bodies into the room in silence, pulled her in and shut the door tight.  


* * *

  
Once in the comfort of the dark, he said roughly, "Ya crazy???"  
  
His eyes glowed even more than before; it scared her now. No mortal should have eyes like that. Rogue shivered and backed away. 

"What are you, Remy LeBeau?"  
  
He held up a card and it became enveloped in a fiery ball of light. Her gasp was quite audible, even though she had tried to supress it.  
  
"I'm de devil's spawn, Rogue. An unwanted nightmare, a freak of nature," he explained as he gave the card a light toss and it disintergrated noiselessly. "I'm a mutant, chere. You 'fraid of me?"  
  
"N-no. Just surprised, ah guess. Ah've never met one before," she rolled the unconscious bodyguards over to a darker corner with her foot, and tried to regain her poise by checking on her gun. "Your eyes jus'...made me a li'l uneasy, that's all."  
  
They walked over to the bed, turned on the dim nightlight and sat on the edge of it facing the front door, each preferring to be reticent for a while. Aloof and distant, the odd couple scrutinized the vacant and lushly-furnitured apartment.

Many golden ornaments and statues grazed the mantlepiece, and the Persian carpeting under their feet cost enough to feed a family for a good couple of years. Rogue wondered if the stuff on the mantlepiece was all solid gold.  
  
Suddenly, the thief stood up and decided to live up to his profession; he produced a large sack and went up to the paintings on the walls.   


He let out a low whistle of awe.  
  
"Dis costs a bomb...I didn' expect somethin' dis good t'be here," He took out a small penlight and examined the surface of one small painting. "It be real alright."  
  
He took it off the wall and lowered it gently into the bag, frame and all. Rogue watched intently as the man went on to contemplate the value of the gold statuettes.

She watched his fingers, long and graceful, caressing the surface of gold; his hair that fell irresistably over his brow. Somehow he knew her pain, even though she didn't tell him anything about her past.  
  
She was *so* tired and lonely...  
  
A lump formed in her throat and tears spilled out from her eyes; she didn't know why she was crying. She didn't even know that she could shed tears anymore. A sob escaped her, and Remy spun round immediately. He blinked stupidly at first, but then his hard features softened as his heart went out to her.  
  
She was in the same situation as he was. Taken into something that they didn't want; they had been too young and too scared to fight for their freedom. For him, it was the New Orleans Thieves' Guild, he'd been accepted as part of the family when he was orphaned and found wandering on the streets. He didn't want to be with them anymore, but after 15 years of being a thief, there was no other path for him to take. He had to be on the run constantly.  
  
Rogue curled up into a ball and hugged her knees, sobbing quietly. He set down his bag and went to her, smoothing her hair and comforting her with gentle words. He held her tight and shared her pain; when she finally quietened down, he kissed her cheek lightly, half-wondering if she would give him a shiner for his audacity.  
  
She didn't, and he brought his lips to her soft, plaint ones. Her arms came up almost immediately to entwine around his neck, her response an urgent one, as if she had only a little time left to live.

His body temperature rose as he felt her tongue brushing against his in a seductive caress, the gentle suction of her sweet mouth arousing him...She was so soft against his body...  
  
Rogue stiffened instantly as she heard a masculine voice outside the door, calling for his bodyguards. Pulling away from the intimate contact split seconds before the key in the lock opened the door, the assasin pulled out her silencer gun and took aim, pumping one single bullet between the eyes of Senator Greene. The man fell to the floor without so much of a gurgle of death.  
  
They were both stunned for a minute, realizing how close they had come to jeopardizing the whole assignment. The walls erected themsleves around her again; Rogue slid away from Remy and looked quietly at the body.   
  
Then she looked at him, and without a word, left the room rapidly.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. Free for a Second Part 3

**Free for a Second**  
**  
Disclaimer:**   
Here's a piece of old, old, stale news. The characters below to Marvel, and I'm not gaining a penny from this. But I don't mind. It's my passion! :)  
**  
Note:**   
Yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a three-parter, but heck, no. It's too long to be a single chapter, so I tho't I'd do it to a four. :) Enjoy!   
**  
P/S:** Special thanks to my personal editor, Caroline! Let's hear it for her!! *standing ovation* :D

Vicki Lew | June 1997

**Part Three**

The bottle fell to the ground with a loud thud, spilling its contents on the wooden floor rapidly and filling the small motel room with the fragrant smell of bourbon whiskey. She just looked sadly at the mess on the floor, but made no move to clean it; just balanced herself precariously on the chair on two of its four legs while her feet were kicked up on the desk before her.

Rogue settled for the bottle of Absolut Vodka that was on the desk instead, her unsteady hand groping at air due to her alcohol-induced double-vision. After much squinting and pawing, she finally grabbed the bottle by the neck and took a hearty swig from it.

"Ah...neeeed oolivesss with thisss..." She hiccupped and chuckled at the odd sound. "Ya broken rule number 4.5, Sabby...'Sobriety keepsss ya alive.'...Ain't that g-gonna be a problem if ya doesn't wanna stay that way?"

The drunk woman laughed neurotically, jolting so much that the whole chair fell backwards with her in it. The crash hardly affected her as she lay on the floor, her hair and suit slightly wet from the whiskey puddle there. Her mood swing took a dramatic turn as her laughter dissolved into tears; soon she was heaving with sobs and pulling at her hair. After a while, Rogue crawled her way to her equipment case, and pulled out her favourite civillian automatic pistol. 

"Hi, baby..." She held the weapon to her breast and ran a finger down its barrel. "Ah'm c-countin' on ya t'take me on a-a good ol' ride."

Her trigger-finger found its usual nook with familiar routine and the assasin had it held to her head in a flash. She ground her jaw and hummed quietly to herself, her head nodding, nodding...

"If ah'm gonna get killed, ah'm gonna do it myself, thank y'all kindly!" she hissed as she turned suddenly and fired at the hitman who had been stalking her by the window, ready to shoot her down. He hit the deck a split second before the bullets shattered the window and cursed. He was so sure that she would be too drunk to notice anything and that she would be a piece of cake to get rid of. 

Guess he was wrong.

* * *

Michael Kirst crawled towards the door admidst all the shooting and did a dash to break it open; his body burst into the room as the door gave way, but he was still in action. He fired his gun at his target, but his aim came a little too late, she had already taken cover behind the table that she had kicked over as a barracade. Cursing under his breath, he knew that he was about to be a sitting duck unless he found some shelter quick.

Rogue gave a yell and fired away before he even had the chance to move and one of her bullets caught him in the right leg. She smiled in self-satisfaction, but it soon faded as the alcohol in her blood kicked in hard and sent her pitching once again onto the hard wooden floor.

She felt a little panic, something she hadn't known in a while, when she found it almost impossible to get up. She realized groggily that this man was a Watcher, assigned to keep her in check during each of her assignments. Every active assasin never ever saw who their Watcher was, until their day of termination. Of all people, it had to be Michael Kirst, the man who'd been a pain ever since the day they'd had to share training back at the academy. He'd be more than happy to cut her throat for all the embarassment she'd caused him.

Almost as soon as she hit the floor, Kirst scrambled towards the fallen woman, kicking the gun away, then connected his good leg to her stomach hard. Her brain registered the pain and she silenced the cry that caught in her throat, the old assasin's practice of suffering in silence kicking in.

"That's for nailing my leg, bitch." The other assasin growled as he grabbed her hair violently and slapped her hard. "And that, is for outdoing me in the tests.

"Oh yeah, one more thing," He grabbed her and kissed her roughly. "It's for humiliating me in front of the other guys, hayseed."

Rogue spit into his face, but he was oddly calm even then. The man pinned her down on the ground, took out some rope and began to bind her wrists and feet tightly, so much that she thought she would lose all sensation in her limbs.

"And now, for jeopardizing the assignment, the organization would like to deliver you your retrenchment present," Michael took out a hunting knife and laid the blade to her cheek. "You aren't so hot after all, are you, Sabby? You made the biggest mistake of all, getting drunk. Or maybe you were waiting for someone to come kill you? Yeah, that might just be me, your angel of Death."

He chuckled softly to himself. "But first, a little fun," He drew the knife down her face to the neckline of her bodysuit and made a little slice there, exposing her upper chest. "You always had a sexy body, Sabine. You got no idea what you missed out on when you turned me down."

His hands roamed to her chest and made lecherous little caresses.

Rogue clenched her jaw and fumed silently, waiting for him to try and kiss her again...Sure enough, his head lowered and she went for it. Kirst fell to the floor when she butted his face with her head, his nose bleeding and broken from the impact.

"Ahhh!!! You slut!!!" He tried to swipe at her, but the adrenaline and rage boiling in her veins kept her a little faster than before; she dodged the blow. Yes, despite the drink in her system, she was doing very well at breaking rule 4.5, whereas Kirst had failed miserably in the silence department.

The knife gleamed in the soft light as she snatched it up and stuck it into the floor. Rogue sawed her bonds free shakily, and retrieved the knife, ready to defend herself. She whipped round in time to see the cloud of smoke that flocked around the barrel of the gun that Michael had fired. Gasping as the pain shocked her senses, she collapsed, stunned by the impact.

He guffawed in her face now, blood leaking from his nose and disfiguring his handsome face. Rogue saw now how much appearances could be deceiving; she was one of those pretenders. Her whole life was a lie...

"I gotcha now, girl. I'm gonna rape you and then throw your corpse down a cliff. How's that sound to you?" Michael grinned lopsidedly as he began to rip her suit open.

"No..." Flashes of the past hit her hard; she whimpered. Rogue reached up to claw at his face, but he cruelly dug his hand into the bullet wound in her right shoulder. She clenched her jaw, stubbornly keeping her silence.

She wasn't going to let this piece of shit do this to her. She was different. She hated the killing. Michael was different; bloodthirsty and trigger-happy, taking lives as if it were nothing more significant than the action of wiping the blood off his hands.

"Ah ain't gonna let ya do this t'me!!" she spat with renewed angst.

There was a new cry of pain as Rogue twisted her other concealed dagger into Kirst's ribs; he howled agian and tried to take it out, but in vain. Rogue forced herself to focus, and used her foot to lodge the weapon further into his body maliciously. He let out a choked gasp of agony.

Budging the man off her, Rogue locked her arm around his neck, ready to break it. But she wasn't going to stoop that low; instead she snarled into his ear, "Ah can't believe HQ sent a loser like ya t'babysit me...They must be gettin' senile in their old age, don'cha think, Mikey?"

Kirst attempted to attack her again, but she twisted the knife in his gut. His eyes turned white from the torture.

"Ya ain't good enough, Kirst. HQ should've turned you out from the beginnin', ain't never once that ya did well on your own, always takin' credit for things that don't even belong t'you. Ah'm never gonna kill again, not even you...Ah'm never goin' down that road again."

He stared at her, eyes burning with venom.

"You're not gonna get out that easy, Sabine. Ain't no way out but dying. If I killed you, I'd be doing you a favour."

"Shut up, Kirst!" Rogue blinked rapidly at her double-vision. The moment the adrenaline in her body settled down, the effects of alcohol drugged her again. It was a dangerous situation this time.

Kirst saw the wavering of her stance and the loosening of her arm around his neck; he barely kept his smug smile as he reached discreetly for the whiskey bottle that had fallen on the floor earlier.

"No, I think you'll shut up!!" With a savage cry, he smashed the bottle against her head. Her body slumped limp and he shoved her off roughly, and like a five-year-old boy, felt very pleased about himself.

Kirst staggered and picked up the hunting knife on the floor. This was going to be an easier kill than he thought after all. Bending over Rogue's prone body, he held the blade to her throat, drawing blood as it cut into her flesh slowly.

"I'm gonna enjoy this, sweet Sab--" 

His sentence got cut off by a loud crash of glass; a dark figure swooped in through the window and swiftly turned a full circle before connecting one strong leg to Kirst's jaw.

* * *

I growled as I smashed de man's face in and kicked him behind the knee.

"Hit a woman, boy? Remy don' like dat one bit. 'Specially when I care f'her," I side-stepped as de bloody man lunged at me wit' his huntin' knife. "You ain't a man, an' I'll kill ya for hurtin' Rogue!"

I executed kick after kick to his chest, breakin' his ribs in de process, leavin' him half-dead. I would've killed him, if it weren't for Rogue. She was barely conscious, but I heard her callin' me weakly, tellin' me not t'fall to dis son-of-a-bitch's level.

She be right.

I dropped him and moved to Rogue instead, pickin' her up gently in my arms and took her away from his vile presence.

* * *

To be continued...


	4. Free for a Second Part 4

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
*ahem* Now then, class. Altogether now ... Marvel ownz theese charactwers below, they are cwalled the X-men, BUT they're messin' things up and weeee fan-fics are fworced to do new stwowies to keep each othwer ammuuussed. Sad bwut twue. :P  


Vicki Lew | July 1997

**Part Four**

The glare from the headlights of the moving cars on the street below illuminated the cramped room occasionally; casting huge, distorted shadows on the ceiling and walls. Then there was the whine of the vehicles rushing by, and their choked engines roaring away to keep the whole engineered frame going. Other than that, it was pretty much as quiet as a lower-class neighbourhood in New York could be.

Sitting by the windowsill, she stared at the rooftops of the uneven apartment blocks, watching out for the glint of a gun, or even the slightest unnatural movement. Sweat and blood mingled as the two fluids trickled down her forehead, the humidity in the messed-up room making it almost impossible to stop perspiring.

Rogue grasped her gun as tightly as her numb hand would allow her, her brain shutting out any pain signals that her wounds were projecting. Still, the hangover surfacing in her head was giving her a killer headache.

Kirst was right; how could she even hope to get away with the betrayal? But she sure as hell would try. And if she got her ticket punched before she could even manage to start a new life, then so be it. At least she wouldn't be their fucking whore anymore. She would go out with a smile on her face knowing her soul wasn't completely sold to the Devil.

"Ah'm still alive; ah'm not entirely cold and unfeeling" she whispered through parched, and split lips, still awed at the revelation. "Ah haven't gone completely numb."

Lethargy overwhelmed her, coaxing her eyes shut when she wanted to be awake. It was only when Rogue heard the jarring of the door that she clicked back into her assasin stance.

Gun pointed to the door and finger on the trigger.

Remy LeBeau just stood there and looked darkly at her, his eyes glowing gently like embers from a fire. Ignoring the weapon, he stepped into the apartment and set down the grocery bags that he'd been lugging.

"Ya can put it down now, p'tit," Remy busied himself by stuffing the perishables into the battered but operable mini-fridge by the wall. "Y'know by now dat gun's don' scare me none. An' dis is my house, my rules, an' I say no guns."

The woman set her gun down and sighed softly. "You should've left the first time round, Remy. You're a fool. Ya don't know what you're gettin' into."

Arms filled with bandages and antiseptic lotion, Remy strode over, ignoring everything she had just said, and began preparing to dress her wounds.

Rogue stared at him and wondered what his motives were. No one had been so kind to her since the day Portman had bailed her out of jail to save her neck. Even then, what she thought came from the goodness in the man's soul turned out to be ugly motive.

Would this man be the same? Like her father, like Portman, like Kirst? Kind to her to gain her trust, all to crush her and use her in the end...Remy brushed her hair back and cleaned the bloody gash on her forehead, picking out bits of glass as he went.

"Tell me if'n it hurts, chere." he looked at her uncertainly; all this must've hurt, hell the damn thing probably needed stitches, but she didn't even flinch. It was spooky.

"Ah just need a drink," He reached into his coat pocket and handed her a small bottle of scotch. "Ya gotta be kiddin'. After what happened? Ah don' think so."

"Den I get'cha some milk?"

Rogue nodded. "Anythin' but alcohol,"

* * *

Sipping directly from the carton, she watched the man warily as he unravelled the bandages.

_Why didn't he leave me behind? After all, he got all the loot that he wanted from the Senator's home. What does he want from me? Ah have nothin'!_ Rogue's mind made an assesment of what had happened. _How 'bout y'self, girl?_

_Offerin' Remy a deal wasn't the smartest o'things ta do. And neither was lettin' him get away with bein' too friendly. You should've shot him b'tween the eyes when ya had the chance._

_So what were ya lookin' for after that instant connection wit' him? A li'l roll in the grass? Or would ya be so bold as to want something more?_

She involuntarily swallowed, alarmed by the thought. Grudgingly, she acknowledged that she wanted someone she could trust. Someone whose favor didn't rely solely on what she could do for them. Maybe she even might want....She could feel it in her gut but she didn't want to make the wrong move, didn't want to be taken for a ride.

_If'n ah fell for him and he ended up betrayin' me....damnit, it's happened too many times. Ah don't think ah can take it if he deserted me._ She sighed inwardly as his warm hands framed her face, supporting her tired head as he diligently patched the gash up. _Ah want this comfort too much. Ah need it too much. Ah can't let my desires and emotions blind me. Ah'd only be leaving myself open to attack._

She found it ironic. She wasn't afraid to die, but she feared being vulnerable...

* * *

"Voila."

I finished bandagin' her forehead and started lookin' 'round de rest of her face, tryin to see if dere be anytin' else dat need fixin. She was starin' over my left shoulder, and I took her chin 'tween my fingers and slowly turned her head from side ta side. Gonna have some serious bruises and lotsa swelling, but no'ting too bad. Her lips were split and torn at one corner, but dey'd heal quickly 'nough.

"Well, nothin' here dat won' heal itself."

Quick as lightnin', her eyes flicked to mine and locked onto dem. She fixed me wit' a stare full of questions. She be lookin' for sometin', but 'fore I figured out what, her gaze darted off agin.

Jus den seemed like all de emotion drained away from her face and I could tell she be tinkin 'bout sometin' a million miles from here. I leaned back a pace, wonderin' what ta do next. Was gonna be hard fer me ta see jus what needed mendin' while she be wearin' dat body suit. Jus' had ta figure out a way to tell her dat, wit'out her thinkin' de obvious. Not dat under normal circumstances, I wouldn't enjoy de sight, but not like dis. I shook my head. Why de hell I care anyway? What de fuck it matter?

Dere be plenty o'women in de world dat love to share my company, even if it for jus' one night. And most of dem don have one tenth of de baggage dis femme does. Why did I keep after her? I got what I wanted from last night's job. Well, almost all. Yeah, so dis one's hotter den hell, a man-eater. Beautiful and tough enough to hand you your ass on a plate, you not careful. Sharp 'nough to cut ya, if ya git too close. Et, ok, j'admit, I wan' ta sleep wit her, but dere's sometin' more.

Like when I look at her, I don' jus' see her, s'like I feel her. Shit, I don' know. T'ink maybe I be tinkin' too damn much. 'Sides, dis one gon take a lot o'work to git her to trust you, if she be capable o'trustin anymore. She be full o'hurt an hate, an' gonna rely on you to help heal her. I'm not sure I'm ready to give dat much to any one woman jus' yet. Maybe it jus' be better to walk de hell away from dis one. Like I shoulda done las night, 'stead o'followin' her to her motel. Yeah, I t'ink dat's de right move, ... but de drownin' look in dose magnets she calls eyes just won' let me do it.

Fuck.

* * *

He cleared his throat and once again her eyes met his.

"Rogue, if you wan me to fix up any other wounds ya got, I'm 'fraid you gonna have to take off dat outfit."

She didn't move, but her eyes roamed his face again, trying to detect any hidden motive; the slightest smile, a blink, anything. She found nothing, but still she hesitated. It had to be a ploy. But the constant trickle of blood down her arm forced her to make a choice. She needed help and was in no position to administer it to herself. She slowly stood up, swaying slightly.

For the first time that evening she felt every bit of agony her body was in. She felt her knees beginning to give way, but fought to hold herself erect. He rose to help her, but she shrugged him away.

"Ah'll do it mahself." she informed him curtly.

He simply nodded, sat back down and busied himself preparing lengths of tape for bandaging. A hollow thud heralded the drop of each of her boots, followed by a sharp exhalation of breath as she returned to a standing position. She was obviously in an amazing amount of pain, but he wouldn't offer any further assistance unless she asked for it. Suddenly a tearing noise filled the room and when he looked up, he found her standing in a black sports bra and matching underwear. She'd simply torn apart her catsuit and pushed it as far down as she could manage, to mid-thigh level. Her face was contorted in an effort to conceal her pain. She didn't think she could manage to bend over again without passing out.

Rogue knew he was looking at her, waiting. He knew she needed his help now, but to her surprise, was respecting her wishes and refrained. Maybe she was wrong about him . More importantly, she was beginning to feel like a fool, standing here in front of a gorgeous man, half-undressed and stuck that way. Unable to move much further, she swallowed her pride.

"Ah don't think I can bend over one more time." she admitted. "Could you...."

Thankfully, he didn't make her finish the sentence.

"Sit." he told her, then gently lifted one foot into his lap and swiftly pulled the material down and off. He repeated the same manuever with the other leg.

Obviously uneasy, she averted her eyes from him.

"Chere, if I do sometin' dat makes you really uncomfortable, you jus' let me know, d'accord? I will stop."

To his disbelief, she looked directly at him and gave him a tentative smile.

"Okay."

The first thing he did was take a look at the knife wound on her neck. That probably could have used a few stitches as well, but he wanted to spare her as much pain as possible, so he thought for now, steri-strips would do. He soaked a gauze pad in hydrogen-peroxide.

"Dis is gonna hurt." He washed the cut out and covered it with a light layer of iodine. Concentrating, he pinched the laceration shut, and quickly applied the steri-strips. They held the wound shut, and, satisfied, Remy coated the gash with a thin coat of anti-bacterial ointment. Lastly, he covered the whole mess with a gauze pad and medical tape. He moved on.

Rogue's throat bore distinct ligature marks, but nothing too urgent. As his eyes made their way down and across her shoulders, what he saw made him gasp. She had been wearing black, and though he knew she'd injured her shoulder, he didn't know she'd been shot. In the few minutes it had taken to dress her neck, blood had coursed down the full length of her  
arm, covering it almost in its entirety.

"Merde! Why de hell you not tell me you been shot, woman!?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, her eyes rolled back in her head and Remy was barely able to catch her before she hit the floor.

* * *

She struggled through countless muddied thoughts and foggy nightmarish memories to open her eyes. When she did, she found herself laying on a bed, her wounds completely dressed, ice packs resting on her injuries. A light sheet had been pulled up and tucked under her arms and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Curiously enough, she was no longer in a great deal of pain. She spotted Remy across the room, asleep in a chair.

"Remy." she called to him.

Instantly he awoke and jumped to his feet, quickly surveying his surroundings. His scrutinizing gaze fell upon her, and realizing it was Rogue that had roused him, his expression softened somewhat.

* * *

"How you be feelin'?"

"B-better. Much better." Ah replied, but ah shouldn't be. Mah head felt like it was full of clouds. Ah looked at him again and raised an eyebrow.

"You slip me something, Cajun?"

He noted the relaxed tone in mah voice and favored me with a smile as he nodded.

"Just out of curiosity, what was it?"

That damn grin again.

"Jus' a touch a morphine, chere."

Mah head cleared.

"Morphine!? How the hell did you get morphine?"

"Same place I got de rest o'dis stuff. De hospital." He said this like it shoulda been the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was the painkiller, but I guess I should been able to gather this mahself, used all that deductive reasonin' my trainin provided. He was a thief, he needed something he didn't have, but he knew where to get it.

He stole it. Duh.

Ah surveyed the room, trying to spot what else he mighta nicked. Bloody towels and gauze pads filled the trashcan under the table. On it lay a tray full of freshly cleaned medical instruments, a syringe, a small vile of clear liquid, and a small, squat, greyish object. Ah peered closer and recognized it as the slug which had previously been takin' up residence in mah shoulder.

"Wasn't dat bad a wound. Didn't hit nothin' major, jus' bled a hell of a lot. A few stitches took care o'dat. Also ya gonna have some major tender ribs, maybe dey be cracked, but I don' t'ink dey's broken. Otherwise, jus' lotsa cuts and bruises. I saved ya as much stitchin as I could."

As much as ah was tryin' not ta, ah was beginning ta trust the sucker. If'n he really was just after one thing, he coulda easily have taken it when ah was out cold, or when ah was drunk. Maybe that just wasn't his style, or maybe...

Well, let's face it. This was a huge heap of trouble t'go through just for a score.

"How did ya know ta do all that, sugar?"

He shr ugged.

"Been in 'nough scrapes, seen 'nough friends git hurt bad. Jus seemed like a handy thing ta learn. Dieu, I had t'use it more den I wan' to."

Ah could tell he didn't much wanna tell me anymore. Ah tried ta sit up, and though ah was considerably less sore than before, it was still quite an effort.

"Maybe you gonna wanna take it a bit slower."

Suddenly, and for no reason, ah lost mah temper and railed at him, "What the heck do you care?"

Ah hadn't meant to yell at him, especially after all he done. But ah can't abide bein' helpless and bein' babied. After all those years of bein' taught, bein' forced to rely only on mahself, ah didn't know how to take his kindness. Ain't no one been that nice ta me in mah whole life. Not even people who wanted things from me. Remy was tryin ta win mah favor and ah didn't know why.

But it was workin', and ah guess that's why ah was mad. 'Cause he was makin' me feel and want things ah imagined ah never would or even could have before. And what could be one of the biggest points in mah life, if ah was to have on after tonight, could be nothing but a cruel game to him; ah hated that uncertainty. Ah meant ta find out now just what his intentions were.

"Shit." He was angry, and at a loss at what to say. "What you wan' me ta do, jus' left you dere ta bled ta death? Or worse, let dat Kirst guy rape you? Kill you? *Dat* what you wan?!"

He's avoidin' answerin mah question. Ah tried again.

"Why did ya follow me?"

He threw up his hands, frustrated. "I don know. Maybe its jus I'm a gentleman and wanna make sure you got home safe. Maybe I was stupid 'nough ta give a damn. Don' really matter what I tell ya, do it, girl? 'Cause all you gonna believe is dat I followed you hopin' ta git some action!"

He was right. Ah couldn't believe that someone didn't have an ulterior motive to helping me. There had to be something more. Ah pushed him a step further.

"So that's the truth ain't it? You just wanted to nail me."

"Mon dieu! I been tryin' ta show ya otherwise all night, tryin' harder den I ever done my whole life. And it ain't made one bit o'difference. Would I have put ya back together if dat's all I wanted?" Remy raked his hands violently through his hair in exasperation.

"Maybe it's just that ya don't like yoah women bleedin' all over ya."

He stopped his furative pacing and stood utterly and completely still, his fists clenched and shaking, his eyes narrowed and glowing like fire.

"Fine. You fucking believe dat if you wan'. I don' give a fuck. I don' know why I even bothered."

He strode to the closet and pulled a shoulder bag down from the shelf. Barely controlling himself, he threw a few things into the bag. Going to the sink, he snatched up his toothbrush and razor, and tossed them in as well. Then he whirled around to face me, still glaring.

"You kin stay here 'til your all healed up. Dere's plenty o'food and 'nough medicine ta last ya. Shit, take whatever da hell ya need. I, however, am getting da fuck outta here. Dere's plenty o'people in de world dat don' like me, want me dead. Least wit' dem it's 'cause I wronged dem, not 'cause I tried ta treat dem like a human bein'. T'ink maybe dey'd appreciate my company a bit more."

With a few long strides he was at the door, but fixed me with one last look, the venom in his voice clearly audible -- "Maybe one day dat frozen chunk o'ice you call a heart will thaw out. Good luck."

And he turned his back to me.

Ah sat there in shock. He was hurt. Ah had hurt him. Ah'd never done that to anyone before. Never been given the chance to. Sure, ah'd killed people, caused a lot of physical pain, caused others to grieve. But it was always mah actions, the killin' that caused and inflicted the pain, never mah word or emotions, or lack there of. And those actions weren't even really mine, they'd been dictated to me.

But ah *had* hurt him, the first person in mah life who may have actually have cared about me, and ah alone was responsible. There was no one else to take the blame but myself. As he walked out the door, ah realised two things for the first time in mah life: Ah was truly and completely sorry for what ah had done, and ah was desolately alone, hurt, and terrified.

Ah couldn't just let him leave. Not like this.

"Remy!" Ah cried out and frantically fought to get up from the bed. "Remy, wait!"

Ah managed three steps toward the door before the room began to spin, and ah crumpled painfully to the floor.

"REMY??"

* * *

To be continued..


	5. Free for a Second Part 5

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable X-men characters are property of Marvel. I am not profiting financially from writing fan-fiction, so if anyone wants to sue me, you'll just have to take my rubber-duckie. :P (hey it rhymes!)  


Vicki Lew | Caroline Dillon | August 1997

**Part Five**

Blood splattered across the flawless marble tiles, followed by the dull thuds of fists connecting to a body.

"Gaaaaahhh!!" The victim cried out helplessly as the blows rained down on him.

"Fool!"

Crack of the jaw.

"Incompetent bastard!"

Snap of a rib.

"Worthless piece of shit!"

The burly man who had been executing the beating stopped abruptly and pulled the leather gloves off from his hands roughly. Beads of sweat rolled down his face that was contorted with restrained violence, but he hardly heaved from his exertions.

"S-sir..." Kirst attempted to plead thorough broken teeth with his superior. "Portman, gimme another chance, please."

"Another chance??" Portman whirled around and roared. "Whatever for? To let you screw everything up again?"

With a snap of his fingers, two men clad in black suits appeared hauled Kirst off the floor; he was too drained to put up the slightest struggle. Portman tightened the belt of his smoking jacket and drew a long breath on his cigar, blowing the smoke into Kirst's face.

"You're a loser, Kirst. Always letting your personal conflicts get in the way of a job. Weiland must've been crazy to assign you to Watch Sabine. I should've done this a long time ago," He narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Get rid of him, boys."

Kirst's eyes widened in a mixture of fear and anger, his mouth opening to let out a string of curses only to be silenced by the fumes of chloroform. As the effects of the gas took over, the last thing his eyes saw was the look of contempt on Portman's face.

* * *

The evening wind blew up the dirt on the sidewalk, pieces of scrap paper floating by occasionally. Children were already locked up safely in their homes, away from the danger that lurked the streets at night in the form of robbers, gangsters and drunk drivers.

He walked alone, his trenchcoat whipping in the wind, a backpack on his back, and his chestnut hair an unruly mess. Remy LeBeau dangled the cigarette on his lips loosely and rubbed his unshaven jaw, his mind deep in thought. Barely an hour into leaving her behind in the apartment, that nagging feeling inside his head was telling him to turn back already. His pride, however was another story. He was still angered by her words, her cynicism, but most of all, her obstinacy.

_Why should I go back?_ he engaged in an interpersonal reasoning with himself.

He'd tried to help her, even tried to show her cared. And in return he'd gotten a proverbial slap in the face. He clenched his jaw, bitterly remembering the spite in her eyes as she accused him of trying to use her. It wasn't often that he put himself out like that for someone else. And contrary to her beliefs, he hadn't expected anything in return. But he got something alright.

A goddamn insult!

Well, that was something he could definitely live without. He quickened his pace.

_She be an assassin. She kin take care o' herself._

Despite his resolve to ignore any surfacing thoughts of her, visions of the past night plagued his mind. This time the memory was not of her spitting insults, but of her lying helpless, injured on his bed. Would she be able to defend herself now? It was only a matter of time before they tracked her down, and he doubted she'd be in any condition to put up much of a fight. However, his temper overpowered his concern as it flared again at her hateful rejection of his attempt to reach out to her.

_Ain't my problem now. I tried, and she made it clear she don' wan' my help. Damn hothead could start a fight in an empty house._

Turning up his collar, he pressed on. Voices off to his left caught his attention and he looked in their direction. Two prostitutes were negotiating with an over-weight middle aged man. He could see the driver sizing up the duo with a predatory sneer, one that stirred something inside of Remy. A last image of Rogue stopped him in his tracks. Kirst salivating over her prone, bleeding body, his intention quite clear in his shark-like eyes. If Kirst went after her now, there was no doubt that he'd be able to have his way. In spite of the pain she had caused him, Remy Lebeau was not the kind of man who would allow that to happen to anyone.

"Mon dieu, Remy. You really goin' soft." the Cajun muttered under his breath as he swiped the cigarette from his mouth and dashed it to the sidewalk, brazenly stamping it out. Exhaling a last cloud of smoke, he turned round and quickly began retracing his steps.

* * *

"Damn!"

She slammed her fist on the wooden floor and winced. No matter how hard she tried, her legs just wouldn't cooperate; they remained numb and limp. Her skin was dripping with perspiration from the humidity in the slovenly room, and her arms were laced with scratches from the unpolished floor, inflicted when she tried to push herself up.

Rogue knew she'd been stuck here, sprawled on the floor for close to an hour. Who knows how long she'd have to stay here before she got her strength back. Right now, it was just the helplessness that bugged her. Tears of frustration and exhaustion moistened her eyes. Resignedly, she rested her face against the wooden floor and closed her eyes.

Okay, she admitted, so she needed his help. So she wished Remy would come back. She'd be buzzard bait without him. But her guilty, underused conscience nagged at her, letting her know that wasn't the only reason she wanted him to return. She wiped away the tears that stole down her face, still reluctant to display her feelings openly, even when she was alone.

A gentle rhythmic vibration against her cheek snapped her mind to attention. Her ears picked up the dull thud of approaching footsteps. Her senses came alert immediately, emerald eyes charged with vigilance.

_Shit!_ she cursed silently.

She tried once more to heave herself off the floor, but it was no use. Panic set in. There was no way she could make it to her gun. Her eyes rapidly scanned the floor around her, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Her eyes came to rest on a beer bottle that lay within her reach. Snatching it up, her fingers tested the weight of the bottle, evaluating the damage it could inflict if anyone attacked her. Her only chance was if she had the element of surprise and could lure her attacker into close range. Currently she was in plain sight, the bed the only accessible cover. With supreme determination, she manage to drag her protesting body under the bed, re-opening the wounds that had just begun to heal. Sweat blurred her vision as she peered out from the shadows, waiting for her prey to emerge.

The footsteps grew louder until she could see a pair of legs visible up to the knee, hesitate just outside the door. Rogue tried to identify intruder, focusing on his shoes and clothes. However, the details ran together as her sight faltered again, the room swimming as the trespasser proceeded to approach the bed.

She held her breath, body tensed, as the stranger dropped to one knee beside the bed. The sheets were pulled back, and she swung the bottle with everything she had at the face that appeared. A strong hand caught the bottle millimeters before it smashed against its target. Radiant eyes bore into her unblinkingly.

"Good to see you too, chere."

She blinked, clearing her eyes

"REMY?!"

He removed the bottle from her grasp, and, after setting it aside, he helped her out from under the bed. His face betrayed no emotion as he knelt on the floor on one knee, then moved back from her, putting space between them. Relief flooded her mind.

He'd come back and she wasn't going to fuck it up this time. She was too tired to keep up that veil of cool independence. Half-leaning, half-falling, Sabine used the last reserves of her strength to close the gap between Remy and herself, clutching at him as she slumped wearily against his body.

* * *

They stayed there for a few moments neither one of them uttering a word. Uneasy in this new territory, Rogue was acutely self -conscious and a bit embarrassed at the way she'd lost her cool at the sight of Remy. Second guessing herself, she pulled away from him slowly and propped herself up on her elbows, eyes never meeting his.

"Ah'm...It's just ah'm relieved to see it was you," she strained for an excuse. "Ah thought you were Kirst."

Remy studied her, confused. For a moment he thought she'd changed her mind about trusting him, wanting his help. He'd felt something in that embrace and she had sounded genuinely happy to see him. Now it seemed her indifference had returned. Well, if that was the way she wanted it.

"Look, it ain't goin' ta be long 'fore dey figure out where you are, and you in no condition to fight. Thought it'd be a waste o'my effort to have saved yer ass last night only to leave you a sittin' duck here. Can't be havin' dat on my conscience so I'm goin' make sure you get to a safer local, den you on your own."

_Damn it, girl!_ she thought, noting the chill and control infused into his voice, _Ya done it again. Drove him off. What the hell is wrong with you?_

She looked up at him, momentarily focusing on his features, trying to read them. His stoic expression did not mar the appeal of his scruffy, yet cleanly structured face. Nor did it mask the emotions that played in his eyes.

Hurt, anger.

Why was it so hard for her to reach out to him?

He stood and glanced down at her expectantly, waiting for her to rise. He didn't know that she couldn't stand on her own. Hell, it had taken her nearly an hour and nearly passing out for her to admit it to herself.

_Well, stupid, face it. Ya got two options. Ya can stay here on the floor in your underwear and continue to feel like a jackass, or ya can swallow your pride, act human, 'n ask for his help. Make up your mind, girl. Do ya want his help 'n what comes with it? Or do ya wanna be alone again? Alone and on the floor in your skivvies with a splinter ridin' up your butt??_

Swallowing deeply, she made her decision.

"Uh, Remy. " she looked at her feet. "Ah can't stand."

He did nothing. Of course he'd get her off the floor, whether she asked or not. But he hesitated for a moment, hoping she would actually ask.

_Damn_, she thought. _S.O.B's gonna make me say it. Well? Go on then_, she told herself.

"Could ya help me?"

It was such a small thing, but it made all the difference. His face softened somewhat, a ghost of a smile tickled his lips.

"O'course"

Remy slowly knelt down by her side and gingerly scooped her up. Rising slowly, he lay her on the bed. Rogue winced slightly and closed her eyes as she stretched out all the tight muscles in her body.

"Better?" he asked and she nodded, still working out all the kinks. He favored her with a lopsided grin when she opened her eyes and then tilted his head in the direction of the ground.

"So, you were down dere de whole time den?"

She gave him a hard stare, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Glad ah amuse you Cajun."

He smirked back at her. His eyes drifted to her arms where he noticed the fresh scratches. He took her by each wrist and examined the wounds. Matching cuts ran all over her stomach and upper thighs.

"Kind o' you to make new work for me while I was out."

She said nothing as he went for the anti-septic and more bandages. Silently she watched him, though grateful that he'd returned, she wondered why. If the situation had be reversed she would've been in the next state by now. But here he was. Remy sat down next to her, putting his tools on the makeshift nightstand next to the bed.

"So" he looked at her directly, "You goin' ta tell me what 'xactly I got myself into?"

"It's best you know as little as possible."

"Best for who, chere? Figure I'm in up to my neck now anyways. T'ink I deserve an answer."

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't argue with him. After all he'd done, the very least he deserved was to be told what he was up against. But not now. She was too exhausted from the night's trials.

"Look Remy, it's a long, complicated story and ah ain't up for it jus now. Ah reckon we got a little time 'fore they find out where we are. Ah jus need ta rest a spell, then ah will tell you what you need to know."

_But only that_, she thought. He didn't need to know the how's or the why's she'd become an agent. Just who it was she was working for and what they were capable of.

Though he'd rather not be kept in the dark any longer, a quick once over on Rogue convinced him that the most pressing concern right now was to get her healthy again. Banged up and bleedin' as she was, it looked like she'd have to get better just to die.

"Okay den. We fix you up, get you rested. But den you come clean. D'accord?"

"D'accord." she nodded.

His attention returned to her wounds. "Merde. You really gone and scraped y'self up good girl."

"Ah had a bit o'help from that emery board ya call a floor." She picked a splinter from her forearm. "Haven't ya ever been down there before?"

She wondered why he hadn't noticed the hazardous condition of his floor.

"Now chere..." he said in mock innocence, his unusual eyes wide. "WHY would I have been down there?"

Unable to help it, a fragile smile flickered across her face. He had taken her question the wrong way on purpose, but his response amused her nonetheless.

"Now really, if I'd known dere was goin' t'be people rollin 'round on it, 'specially people in der underwear, believe me, I'd a sanded it."

He grinned at her, glad to see that the mood of the evening was becoming a bit more pleasant. Decidedly less agitated , he set about to dressing her wounds. While he was distracted attending to her , Rogue allowed herself to study him once more. Though his face was quite serene, his shadowed eyes were deeply focused. Oddly enough, a mental image of a boy scout earnestly tending to a bird with a broken wing came unbidden to her mind. But she was no bird, and Remy sure wasn't any boy scout.

A smile once again threatened to overrun her face and she suppressed an impulse to run a finger over the line of his strong, stubble clad jaw, wondering if it too would feel like sandpaper. She watched as his nimble hands gently cleaned her cuts, noting the ripple of the muscles in his forearms as he worked. Remy's fingers delicately brushed against her stomach, the sensation giving her goose bumps that she hoped he didn't notice. If he did he said nothing. With deliberation, she pushed away all other thoughts, reveling in the feel of his touch. It wasn't often she experienced a moment like this and rightly enough, she wanted to savor it. Finishing with her stomach, he prepared a fresh gauze pad with hydrogen-peroxide.

He hesitated. "Maybe you wanna do this?"

Sticking to her resolve, Sabine lifted one leg and rested it in his lap, letting him know, to some extent, she did trust him. He cleansed both legs quickly, not once straying from the task at hand. When he was finished she was shocked to discover that she almost disappointed that he hadn't tried anything. Instead, he pulled the sheet up to her waist.

"Dere you go. Hope that didn' hurt too much."

He was smiling at her again with those mesmerizing red on black eyes. She wondered briefly what other women felt when he smiled at them like that. She herself, felt a sensation that she could only place once before: the kiss back at the hit at the Senator's grounds. His hand was resting on hers creating a seductive warmth and she wondered what it would be like if...

His hand pulled away as he turned to clean up the nightstand. Not wanting to lose this feeling, to have him leave her side quite yet, she swiftly forced herself more upright.

"Remy..."

"Hmm?"

He turned to face her and she moved before he could react, pressing her lips to his urgently.

_Now DIS is a surprise._ he thought before he was lost in the embrace. Gently cupping her face, he pulled her more deeply into the kiss. She responded by clasping her arms around his neck. They drew closer, his arms slipping down to wrap around her back. Drew closer still, until they were pressed tight against one another, her emotions overriding the protest her injured body made.

Sabine didn't want to let go, this was too wonderful, too unreal. But if she didn't come up for air she was going to pass out.

_Maybe that 'd be nice_, she thought. _To slip into blackness, mah last thought of this moment, his kiss._

But that was probably not the best way to go out right now.

They both broke off at the same time, quietly gasping for air. Their foreheads were pressed together, arms still around one another.

"Thank ya, sugar..." It was barely a whisper.

He kissed her briefly on the lips and rose to straighten the mess. Rogue leaned back on the pillow, watching him, not letting herself reflect on what had just occurred lest she might try and dissect it mentally, ruining it. She silently waited for him to return, wanting him to. When he did it was with another painkiller. She stifled her instinct to ask what it was and let him place it in her mouth. Remy held the cup for her and she almost burst at laughing at him and herself. She wasn't crippled, she could hold the damn cup. But it was a display of kindness so she accepted. Maybe being somewhat helpless wasn't so bad. Actually it was beginning to seem rather fun.

"Well, 'bout time we both get some shut eye."

He traced her good cheek gently and carefully with the back of his hand; she shivered slightly. Then he turned away from the bed and flicked off the light switch. Soundlessly he padded to the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower. Sabine's eyes began to close and she dozed lightly, letting the rhythmic drumming of the shower to lull her.

A scuffle of feet awoke her and through slitted eyes, she saw Remy pass the foot of the bed, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. The room was cast in blue from the moonlight coming in through the window. Just barely enough to see by, but not enough for him to notice she was not quite fully asleep. As quietly as he could he opened a dresser drawer, removing a few items. Quickly he stripped off the towel and dried off, unaware Rogue was watching. She knew she shouldn't, but so close to sleep, her will was gone and curiosity won out over decency.

He slipped into a pair of boxers, and, grabbing the comforter that lay in a heap at the foot of the bed, he settled in a chair by the far wall. Something inside her sunk. Sabine didn't want to be alone right now with this feeling, only partially drug-induced. She was too weak to fight sleep much longer. Forget the rules she'd been taught, right now, she wanted him close by. She wanted to know that of someone came bursting through that door, Remy would be at her side. She wanted to feel safe.

"Remy..." It came out soft and slurred.

Startled , he looked up sharply.

"You still awake?"

"Mmhmm.." She couldn't really focus or form thought but she tried anyway. "....come 'ere...."

He rose and walked softly to the bed. Her eyes had closed.

"Wha'cha need, petit?" he whispered.

"Sleep here....."

At his hesitation, she opened her eyes.

"Chere, git some sleep. You hurt, you need de whole bed. De painkiller ain't makin' you think right."

He kissed her forehead and turned to go. She grabbed his hand limply.

"Don't go...."

He heard the desperation in her voice. He couldn't refuse her.

"Shh, s'okay." he comforted her as he returned to her side. "Remy will stay right b'side you, if you want." He carefully crawled over her to the other side of the bed. Climbing under the covers, he lay on his side facing her. "I be right here."

Now too tired to even speak, she shimmied sideways, closing the space between them, leaning into his warmth. Remy lay one arm across her, cautious not to touch her bad shoulder. In the darkness he reflected on how the tables had turned. Finally, Rogue drifted off to sleep and he soon followed.

* * *

To be continued...


	6. Free for a Second Part 6

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
Rogue and Remy "belong" to Marvel. Vicki and I are just "borrowing" them. And if you don't like the story you could say we are "ruining" them. Of course generally when you borrow things, you ask first. Unless you're my brother. And then you just take it when I'm not looking and scratch it up so that when I go to play it, it conveniently skips on my favorite song. Baltimore belongs to Maryland and Brady Anderson belongs to me.  
All descriptions of the many settings the story takes place in are based on actual locations, and in most cases are quite familiar to at least one or both of the authors'. Except when they're not.  


Vicki Lew | Caroline Dillon | February 1998

**Part Six**

Slow motion blurries the fuzzy forms that lurk in the recesses of her vision. Figures brush past her, barely tangible, their exact shape impossible to discern. Turning round in circles, she seeks an exit from these muted creatures, but in all directions finds only more shifting bodies.

Slowly, a sickening pain begins to rack her whole body and the restless forms begin to converge. Striking out, she connects with nothing, still vainly searching for an escape. Something catches her eye, a light. No, rather a dim haze that is seeping in all around her. Gradually everything fades into this fog that continues to increase in intensity, hurting her eyes and giving her a pounding headache.

Blinking rapidly against the light, she manages to focus. The sunlight pouring in through the window of the tattered room strikes Rogue directly in the eyes, forcing her from her dream.

_Oww, damn!_

She groans to herself, trying to rub away the headache that seizes both temples. Her eyes stare long and hard at the ceiling.

_Where the heck am ah?_

Confused by the pain she feels, the hangover and the side effects of the morphine she can't remember having taken. She winced as she turned over painstakingly to her side, and --

She wasn't alone.

Her mind snapped into a crystal clear state and her body went into auto-flight; she threw her good arm over the intruder's neck, using her leverage to her advantage and choked him tightly, preparing to break his neck. Remy's eyes snapped open as a tight arm encircled his neck. He tried to sit up but from this position, his attacker had the upper hand.

"Chere?" was all he could get out before his air supply was choked off. It was enough. Rogue halted in mid-twist, jarred by the sound of his voice. She shook her head, hurting it more, but finally coming fully aware of everything for the first time that morning. Her grip slackened and Remy flew from her deadly embrace, jumping completely free of the bed. He landed in a fighting stance facing her.

"What de fuck you doin'?!" he roared at her, eyes blazing.

She sunk back slowly onto the bed, utterly perplexed. Her face had gone ghostly pale, giving emphasis to the mottled bruises.

"Ah.....Ah...," she stammered, obviously lost and frightened by what she had almost done.

_No. What have ah done?_

The shaken woman went totally silent then, whispering, "Ah thought you were another of them. Come ta kill me...Ah'm sorry."

She looked dejectedly down at her hands, expression oddly stoic.

"Ah didn't know what Ah was doin'. Ah'm sorry..."

Sabine stopped talking and turned her body with difficulty, her back facing him. Then closing her eyes she took a deep breath and held it for a good second before exhaling.

"...Sorry," she drawled slowly.

He regarded her skeptically, not relaxing his stance. But he did, however, walk around the bed to look deep into her glazed eyes. He didn't understand it, but he just knew in his gut that she was telling the truth...It was so right that he could taste it.

"Well, ok den. Jus' don' do it again." He tried going for casual kidding to lighten the whole situation and to make her feel better, but she didn't smile. Cautiously he sat down on the bed. "Hey now, I said you forgiven, you tried to kill me ' member? I be de one who gets to sulk, pas toi, non?"

"This ain't funny, Cajun. Ah was gonna snap yoah neck. First thing ah wake up to do was ta kill. Heck, mah gut reaction to a confusing situation was to kill. Ah ain't never been this messed up...Ah'm never gonna be free..."

_Lord, ah hate being like this. Ah hate what Ah am._

"Rogue. Look at me. J'admis, you really spooked me jus' now. And I can't say dat bein' choked to deat' is my favorite way to wake up. But I wise 'nough to know dat a person can't change demselves overnight. I'm a t'ief, I got t'ieves instincts. When I see someting dat I wan', my first reaction is to steal it. When I'm in a pinch, my first t'ought goes back to what I was taught, what's become second nature. Jus' like you did."

_You don't understand, Remy. Ah ain't no simple thief. Ah'm a murderer. Ah had mah choice an Ah took the easy way out. Ah was weak, too scared to take mah chances in the real world. Ah did this to mahself._

"Girl, like it or not, you be an assassin. You got assassin instincts. Somebody pounded dem into your head 'til dey was natural as breathin'. And now your mind has just forgotten any ot'er way. I make you a deal right now. I won't hold dis against you, if you promise to try and t'ink more wit' your head, and rely less on what dey taught you. We got a deal?"

She stared at him disbelievingly in return.

"Ya make it sound so easy...Ya think ah haven't tried? They know my every move, for Christ's sake! These people want me dead! They're more than willing to kill you too, if you try and stop them. How can ah ever relax like ya want me to?" she almost screamed at him.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. You bein wound up tighter den a clock spring ain't gonna do us no good. I know its gonna be hard, but you gon need ta at least try." His eyes pleaded with her with sincerity.

"Ah want ta so bad..."

"Den stop bein' a coward and lis'sen to y'self for once," he admonished gently but then popped her another grin.

_How can Ah listen to mahself when Ah don't even trust mah judgement anymore?_

"You gon have to try an believe in y'self if you want a fighting chance against these people."

She looked at him, slightly shocked. It was almost as if he'd read her mind...

"You done it before." She shook her head negatively. "Non? Den how you been able ta keep alive for so long?"

_Touche._

"How about dat deal?" he asked, lifting her head up with a lean finger so her gaze met his.

She finally gave a small smile and said, "Deal."

Keeping true to her word, she listened to an inner voice and leaned forward, kissing him full on the mouth. OK, maybe her head was the only thing she was listening to as she found she had no real desire to pull away. He was as amazingly attractive mentally as he was physically, and with every minute she spent with him, she found it increasingly difficult to resist him.

However, within moments she was forced to break the kiss, and brought a hand up to her face.

"You ok?" he questioned.

"Yeah, jus' with all that happened earlier, Ah got an adrenaline rush. Now that it's wearing off ah'm hurtin' again."

She sat back, looking very grim as her hands once more found her temples.

"You hol' on. Remy get you somet'ing."

Re-inspecting herself she joked weakly.

"Didja happen to get the number of the truck that hit me?"

'Oh, I got his number alright,' Remy thought to himself as he handed her another pill. As she swallowed, he brushed the hair out of her face.

"Ah reckon we best get on the road. It won't be much longer 'til they find us. If they aren't on the way already."

"T'ink you be right 'bout dat. Best pack up what we need and get movin' 'fore de medicine hits ya. You can rest in de car while I get us to where we goin'."

"An' just where ARE we going, sugar?"

"Don' you fret none, ma chere 'tite choue. You like it. Trust me."

* * *

Remy's arm wrapped tightly around her waist was one of very few things holding Rogue upright as they shuffled down the chilly early morning street. With one arm slung over his shoulder and the other pressed to her chest in a sling under Remy's trenchcoat that she now wore, Rogue struggled as best she could to limp alongside Remy.

She was grateful that there were precious few individuals out at this hour to witness their awkward procession. Together, they hobbled along, Remy murmuring encouragement to her, until they had entered a noticeably more affluent section of town. Her vision began to run and her eyelids were like the tide, covering more distance each time they closed. Her grip around his neck began to slip.

"Remy..." she called to him not sure how much longer she could stay in motion. Sweat beaded down her skin.

"Shhh, s'okay chere. We dere."

Carefully setting her down on an adjacent stoop, she heard him tread a short distance away. Forcing her eyes open, she saw him standing beside a gray BMW. If she hadn't known better, she would not have been able to tell that he was picking the lock, instead of fidgeting with a stubborn key. It took him mere seconds to open the door and disable to alarm. Just as easily, he removed the club from the steering wheel. In less than a minute, she found herself in his arms again as he carried her to the car.

"Why didn't we just take one of the cars back there?" she asked him as he laid her down on the accommodating leather seat, reclining it for her comfort.

"People back dere, dey need der car. Dey lose it, most likely dey never goin' be able to replace it. Now de people in dis neighborhood, dat can afford a car like dis, dey got insurance dat cover de loss. And even if dey ain't insured, dey probably won't break much of a sweat payin' for a new car."

"Mah word...A considerate thief," she chuckled, her eyes halfway shut. They shared the little joke.

_Well, give him another point, Sabby..._

He moved to fasten the seat belt over her.

"No... that'll just hurt..." she managed before closing her eyes for the last time.

"Ok, Remy drive real careful den."

He brushed her cheek with his fingers before hurrying around to the driver's seat. Expertly, he hot-wired the BMW. Turning on some soft classical music to mask the outside noises of the now awakening city, he headed the car out of town.

* * *

A light rain began to fall as they cruised through Baltimore on Interstate 95. He tapped the wheel in time to the song that played on the radio. He glanced over at Rogue, who was fast asleep in the next seat. Once Rogue had settled into a deep drug induced sleep, he had changed the station to keep himself awake and occupied. He didn't care much for the selection of songs the country stations played up this far North. It was more western and pop than anything else, so he opted instead for classic rock/alternative station. However he kept the volume low enough not to disturb her, and except for a few instances of her talking in her sleep, her rest had been peaceful.

He glanced out at the gray city to his left, at the row houses smashed up against one another. AT the liquid propane gas towers that hunkered down just off the highway. And at the sweetly shaped italicized Domino Sugar sign, that, unlit, gave off an air of melancholy. Right now there was seemingly very little that was endearing about "Charm City" the northern-most southern town. Remy focused back on the road in front of him. The entrance to the Fort McHenry tunnel loomed in the distance. Sighing, he fished for a dollar for the toll.

* * *

Negotiating the roller coaster like turns of Maryland's 495, Remy debated waking Rogue. Almost directly in front of them a fantastic structure rose well above the tree line, its white towers straining for heaven. The Mormon Temple was an image out of a fantasy novel, a beautiful immense stark white fortress with gold topped spires, on the highest of which perched the golden statue of Maroni. It took a first time viewer's breath away, transported them to another world for a short moment.

However, to the more jaded and seasoned onlooker, the juxtaposition of the grimy, frantic highway and the awesome castle usually instilled laughter, to be followed shortly by several expletives as they were cut off by another driver.

He decided against rousing Sabine. She needed the rest. Unknown to him, however, Rogue was quite familiar with the temple. Less than 15 minutes away from the institution she had spent the last 5 years of her "life", the Organization that now wanted her dead, she slumbered blissfully unaware that she was heading right into their laps.

Sudden inspiration seized Remy and swerving to take the nearest exit, he decided to cut through D.C. instead of going around it. Amidst cabs and buses he carefully wound his way around the marble city, searching for a new car that met his requirements. As usual, expensive enough that, most likely, its owners were covered, and, in this case, he wanted southern plates. There was truth to the stereotype of southern cops pulling over cars under false pretenses and harassing the drivers simply because they were Yanks. After half an hour, he finally resigned himself to a silver Infinity with Virginia plates in a parking garage. It was an ideal local. No surveillance cameras and the garage had 2 different entrances/exits so he could enter through one and leave out the other without arousing the suspicions of the attendants by leaving so soon in a different car. Plus they were out of sight of the public eye, and the entire level was deserted. Swiftly he transferred Rogue to the other car, not bothering to wake her.

The next part was a bit sticky. It would involve leaving Rogue alone for several minutes. Though painfully reluctant to do so, he knew the dire importance of leaving no trace. Locking her safely in the car, he jumped back into the stolen BMW and exited past the same guard station. In less than 3 minutes, he had arrived in a rather seedy part of D.C. Seeing no one around, he simply parked the car in an alley with the engine running and the doors unlocked.

Satisfied, he sprinted off, back to the garage knowing full well the car would be "stolen" within 5 minutes. With any luck it would find its way to a chop shop, never to be recovered. Remy entered the garage by the second entrance and did not slow his sprint until he reached Rogue and the car. She was still there, safe and sleeping and Remy silently thanked the powers that be.

* * *

To be continued...


	7. Free for a Second Part 7

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
Not ours, Marvel's!  


Vicki Lew | Caroline Dillon | March 1998

**Part Seven**

They made a pit stop in the small town of Vienna, VA. He gassed up the car, and made a quick call ahead to reserve rooms at the hotel they would be stopping at further along the way. Then he drove across the street to the nearest fast food joint. Pulling into the drive-through he gently nudged her.

"Rogue. Roguie....wake-up."

He continued to shake her gently until she responded.

"Huh......what?"

"You wan anytin' to eat?"

She had shut her eyes already.

"Rogue?"

She rolled her head toward him but kept her eyes shut.

"Mmmm..no........not hungry."...and she was asleep again.

Slipping on his shades he ordered something for her anyway. They wouldn't be stopping for a long while.

* * *

The monotonous scenery of farms and cows had given way to an even more stimulating ceaseless procession of trees. At least for awhile he'd had a rather wide array of radio stations to play with, although the country selection was still crap. Flipping between two rock stations and the local alternative one, he came across some nostalgia inducing songs from the 80's around noontime and gladly lost himself in old hedonistic memories. But eventually those stations faded out and only finding something barely tolerable once every 10 minutes he decided to just turn the radio off all together.

Sabine moaned in her sleep and Remy shifted his attention to her. A frown hung on her face but within seconds, disappeared as she settled back into rhythmic breathing. Remy turned back to the road, yet the image of her visage remained foremost in his mind. She was, simply put, beautiful. The most breathtaking woman he'd ever seen, and he'd seen more than most men alive. Her face was almost perfect. But it wasn't the near perfection of her features that occupied his thoughts at the moment, but rather, what made them fall short. The swollen eyes, gashed forehead and split lips. Unconsciously he gripped the wheel tighter in anger, grinding his teeth as he thought .

From that moment they'd shared in the senator's mansion he knew that whoever she'd been working for, she had never stood a chance resisting them. Somehow he had felt the years of intimidation, of threats and bullying and worse. He'd felt her hopelessness, her acceptance that maybe there was no way out but death. He also felt her strong, though fading, desire to keep on living, despite the hell that was everyday life. He could identify with that pain all too well. Maybe that was why he wanted to help her, because he had once known the situation she was in. But even though those days were past for him, he would do everything in his power to help her, because if he managed to escape, she had that ghost of a chance too.

Inwardly he laughed at himself. What made him so protective of this woman? A capable and lethal assassin? Maybe it was just that he felt she'd been dealt a rougher hand than he had. She was so distrustful of good intentions, illustrating that she had never been witness to them before. The bruises that marred her face and body, which he guessed were not the first, mirrored her abused and wounded soul. She'd never had a prayer and it made him sick. He reached over to stroke her cheek. He would get her out of this somehow, if it was the only worthwhile thing he ever did.

With a little under 3 hours left to go, Remy found himself left with little distraction. His mind drifted back to the times when he was like Rogue, forced into a situation he didn't want to comply with...He'd been a thief, all his life. His clan, his family; they were all thieves. But they were different, they stole from the rich, and helped the poor whenever they could.

Kind of like Robin Hood.

Remy smiled at that little term that his father always used. He changed gears and went a mite faster. There was a time when he'd hide in the alleys and shiver in fear, both for himself and his family. For a moment, a flash of cold hatred grazed past his eyes, but the venom disappeared as soon as he remembered that his family was safe, and he had made sure that things would stay that way for a long while yet.

Nothing else mattered...

* * *

There it glittered before them, a glowing glass city that shimmered like molten gold against the backdrop of an indigo blue night sky and the black shadow outline of the Smoky Mountains. After over 10 hours of driving, Remy was never so glad to see Knoxville in all his life. Approximately the halfway mark to their final destination, Knoxville was ideal for hiding out in.

He was familiar with the city and though it was not as southern as he liked, it offered a nice mix of urban and Southern culture. But more importantly, it was big enough to get lost in, and if somehow Portman found them, it was too public and populous for him to risk making a scene in. As they drove down Henley Street towards the hotel, Rogue began to stir awake.

"Perfect timing petite," he informed her as she came fully awake.

She stretched painfully and looked out the window.

"Where are we?"

"Knoxville, Tennessee. We gon' stay here for a spell."

"Stay? Where?"

Remy responded with a grin and pointed out the windshield. Towering in front of them, sparkling like a disco ball, stood the Knoxville Exposition and Convention Center.

* * *

Having pulled the car into the safely of the parking garage, he carefully unpacked a few items from one of his duffel bags. They changed clothes in the car. He into a black silk shirt, velvet jacket and leather pants, Rogue from his tattered trench coat she'd been wearing over her underwear to a long black dress coat with a hood. It was a man's coat, but cinching it at the waist, one could hardly tell.

Remy slipped a spare pair of sunglasses on her, and stepped back to access their appearance. Now they resembled young spoiled celebrities rather than a couple on the run. Satisfied, he returned the duffel bag to the trunk and began rummaging through what looked like the world's largest billfold. In it Rogue saw hundreds of what looked like fake IDs, counterfeited and stolen credit cards and wads of cash. Finding what he was looking for, he produced a smaller wallet and inserted a driver's license, social security card, 2 credit cards and a handful of bills.

She favoured him with a questioning look.

"De license and social security card is fake," he told her "Dey made to match de credit cards which is real."

He drew up beside her and encircled her waist with his arm.

"I know dis gon' be rough, but you gon' have to try and walk normal as possible once we git inside de hotel ' til we reach de room."

"Ah can manage. " she informed him. "Ah feel much better than Ah did this mornin'. That sleep did a world o'good."

Still, she leaned into him lightly as they walked, just to be safe.

"Dat's good chere. At most dey tink you jus bin hittin de sauce."

"Marvellous." she said, dead-panned. A question tugged at her mind, and chewing her lip, she decided to voice it. "Are those cards gonna work? Ah mean wouldn't they have been reported stolen or something by now?"

"Nah. I took dem from de mansion of some rich bastard on vacation. He had so many damn cards, he left dese and bout 10 others behind." He shook his head in disgust. "He ain't even gon return from Europe for a month and it probably be another month fore he even notices de tings I stole. But don' you worry, I only use de cards once. Keeps trails to a minimum dat way. You talkin' to a pro here,"

They reached the lobby and Rogue relaxed in a plush chair while Remy checked them in. Boarding the elevator they began to ascend to their floor.

"You really gon like dis. I got us VIP treatment 'n everything,"

She gave him a look that read 'You must be out of your mind'. He beamed back at her nonchalantly.

"But chere, it be de only way to go!"

* * *

Remy slid the electric key into the lock and opened the door . They both let out a deep breath upon entering and Remy swept Sabine up into his arms and carried her through the parlor and into the bedroom.

"Ah do have feet, ya know."

"Don tell me you not enjoyin dis." came his quick retort and she shut up.

Though she was feeling much stronger now, the trek to the room had tired her a bit and she was grateful to be reclining again. Remy strode to the phone and called the concierge requesting a bell boy.

"What's the game plan sugar?" she asked as he hung up.

"I figure we hol up here for a few days. You heal and git a bit more rest. I gotta contact some people, send word back home."

A knock at the door heralded the bell boy's arrival. Ushering him in, Remy told him where they were parked and the make of the car and sent him to retrieve the rest of their "luggage."

"Don't worry, de doors be unlocked. De bags are in de trunk, jus lock up when you done."

He handed the boy a fifty dollar bill. The young man's eyes widened and with an enthusiastic "Yes sir!" he was gone.

"You hungry petite?"

"A bit, yeah."

Inspecting the contents of the room's refrigerator, Remy returned to the bedroom with some fresh fruit and juice. Stiffly he sat down on the bed.

"Man, I'm sore. Anoder hour in dat car an I wouldn't be able to move."

He handed her some food. She thanked him and they ate in silence. The bell boy returned shortly and Remy tipped him again.

"Thank you sir."

"'Tink noting of it." He replied smoothly. "We 'preciate good service."

"If there is anything else you require further sir, don't hesitate to ask. Just call the concierge and ask for Jonathan and I will be more than happy to oblige."

"Tank you Jonathan. I remember dat."

With the boy gone, Remy finally removed his sunglasses and Rogue followed suit. She could see through his sluggish movements just how drained he was. He had pushed himself and his resouces to the limit to save their asses, and now he seemed to have one wheel down and the axle dragging. Sitting down on the bed, his back to her, Remy leaned over rigidly to remove his shoes. Rogue felt a frustrating guilt for not having been able to contribute, even more so because she was responsible for this situation. She watched as Remy arched his back uncomfortably, a sharp intake of air punctuating his pain. There was something she could do for him, if she could muster up the determination.

Pursing her lips, she decided he deserved some quid pro quo. Cautiously she reached toward him, experimentally moving her hands around his back. Surprised at the unexpected contact, Remy did his best to kept from starting, not wanting to scare her off. Her touch became increasingly firm as she became more comfortable, her hands now running over the full length of his back, expertly seeking out the tensed muscles. She found the main culprits just above the shoulder blades and masterfully began to knead at the knots. He let out a murmur of approval, visibly relaxed.

"How you know how to do dat so well, chere?'

"Was trained how." she began in a soft low voice, her eyes overcast in thought, words spilling out of her unconsciously. "In case we got a cramp in, or a partner did while on a mission. Had to know how to get rid of it immediately, before it cost us. Occasionally we used it on our..."

She stopped abruptly, her eyes now clear and focused. She had been about to say "targets," but had caught herself before it slipped out. What in the world had made her tell him all that? She'd been paying to much attention to what she was doing and not enough to what she was saying. Or thinking for that matter. She forced herself to pull away abruptly and cleared her throat.

"Why don'cha get some rest, Remy? You look beat."

"Oh, I be plannin on it Rogue. But der be a few tings I gotta get squared away first."

He exited into the parlor and Rogue could hear him talking on the phone to what she could only assume were his contacts. She also heard him call the concierge and ask for Jonathan, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. A short while later he returned to the bedroom.

"Well now , if you 'cuse moi, I believe I'm gon freshen up." He turned on the TV and handed her the remote. She flashed Remy a grateful smile which seemed to please him. With a fresh change of clothes he headed for the bathroom.

Sabine finished off her juice and raided the fridge for more food. She was happy to have gained her appetite back. It was a good sign that she was healing quickly. She was eager to be self-reliant again. Sitting back on the bed she flipped through the channels letting her mind drift.

Remy emerged from the bathroom in a pair of jeans and a simple white tee shirt that, though not skin tight, could not conceal the well toned muscles of his torso. As he toweled off his hair there was a knock at the door. Grinning he put on his sunglasses.

"Wait here."

She heard Jonathan's voice from the other room and became quite curious as to what they were discussing. She put on her sunglasses.

"Oui, dat's magnifique,. You do good work, mon homme." She heard the rattle of dishes and Jonathan became visible in the doorway pushing an overstocked tea service into the parlor. He smiled at her and disappeared. Pushing the tea service to the bedside Remy handed her a gift box.

"Figured maybe you might want to freshen up as well. Dis will have to do 'til we can git you some more clothes."

She opened the box and pulled out an elegant silk night gown and matching silk robe. It was a deep violet and sleeveless to provide easy access to her wounds.

"It's...nice," she murmured in a odd tone he couldn't quite figure out. She rose and held the garment somewhat unfemininely up to herself.

He frowned and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'." 

She couldn't recall having been given a gift before besides her gun and she had to earn that. She didn't know quite how to receive it. Remy took her silence to mean that she was uneasy with the intimacy of the gift. He hadn't meant to imply anything by it, just wanted to give her something as lovely as she was, something he thought she'd appreciate. Maybe it had been a bad idea.

"Look, if'n ya not like it , I'll lend you one o'my tee shirts and a pair a sweatpants and I'll wear it. Violet is one o'my best colors." He reached to take the gown but she snatched it away, pressing it close to herself. She looked like a child who was ready for someone to try and take her favorite toy. _SO she does like it_ he thought amusedly, pleased.

"With those broad shoulders? It just wouldn't look right on you. Not to mention the chest hair."

"And jus what about my chest hair,'tite?"

He had her smiling again and she decided to end this silly conversation.

"Thank you." She picked up the robe and spoke hastily. "Now Ah believe it's my turn to go get cleaned up. Wouldn't wanna get this dirty."

She shrugged off his help as she limped to the bathroom. With great difficulty she washed her hair in the sink, gritting her teeth against protesting muscles. Wrapping a towel around her head, she hesitated, debating what to do next. She couldn't imagine how she would get out of her sports bra. Pulling it off over her head would be next to impossible with her injured shoulder and ribs. Cutting herself out of it seemed to be the best solution and rummaging through Remy's toiletry kit she found a pair of scissors that would do the trick.

Carefully she began to cut at her sports bra. Once fully disrobed she removed the rest of the bandages and turned on the shower. She relaxed on the seat built into the wall of the shower letting a light midst run over her body for a few moments. Taking the soap and a washcloth, she bent to scrub away the accumulated grime from her body.

By the time she was dressed in the night gown she found herself thoroughly exhausted. Water ran freely from her now loosened hair and dampened he silk. Grabbing a towel and brush she exited the bathroom. Remy having eaten his fill, was stretched out on the bed watching a late night talk show. He turned toward her, the corners of his mouth curving up as he caught sight of her.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, much," she replied, sitting down on the bed and clumsily attempting to dry her hair.

He snickered at her antics.

"Here, let me do dat." 

"Ah'll do it mahsalf, if it's all the same to you" she all but snapped, indignant at being treated like a child for the hundredth time that day.

"Fine, you go 'head then."

He sat there, a smug look on his face, as she tried to no avail to dry her hair with one arm.. Her aggravation increased as she dropped the towel several times. Remy had turned back to the TV, pretending not to notice, but she knew he was enjoying this. Failing one last time to ring out her hair and only succeeding in creating more tangles, her temper erupted.

"Dammit!" she hissed and he laughed aloud.

She glared daggers at him.

"Fine! You do it!" she pegged the towel at his head. His smile faded. She was like an abused dog that snuggled up to you and then without warning snapped for no reason. And he was losing patience.

Slowly he moved into a sitting position behind her. Though irritated at her attitude, he took the towel and brush, and gently massaged her head, ringing as much excess water from her hair as he could. Then he tenderly brushed her hair out, never once pulling it. Though she sat with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest, she closed her eyes, privately enjoying the tingling sensation his touch caused her. Her anger abated a bit.

"Why do Ah git the impression ya have done this before?" she mused.

"I don't know what you mean choue," he said with mock innocence.

She let out a soft chuckle. She really had no call to treat him so harshly. If only the jerk wouldn't baby her so damn much. He rose and retrieving his medical kit, redressed her wounds.

"Dey look good. Healin' well," he managed between yawns.

"Remy, you are too much," she breathed sleepily, by way of an apology as she slid under the covers.

"I take dat as a compliment," he said as he switched off the bedside lamp.

"That's how it was meant sugar."

In the dark she could hear the rustle of cloth and assumed he was changing into his sleepwear.

"You almost friendly when you fed and clean." he yawned. "Almost. Tink I like you better dat way." he chided, slipping into the bed.

"Ah'll be freakin' Barney in a week you keep this up, Cajun." She retorted sarcastically.

"DAT may be goin a bit far." he answered and snuggling beneath the covers he whispered a soft goodnight.

"Sleep tight, Remy." she whispered back, secretively ashamed that treating someone with respect, the courtesy they'd earned and deserved, was so difficult for her. Silently she pledged she would try and ease up on him a bit. Then closing her eyes, fell into a light slumber.

* * *

To be continued...


	8. Free for a Second Part 8

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer: **  
I'm not saying that you'll like this. I'm not even saying this will be vaguely entertaining. I'm not even gonna say we managed to form complete sentences. For all you know we could have shut our eyes and typed blindly. But if you want to find out, that's a chance you're gonna have to take. It's up to you, you have been adequately cautioned.And if you read this and don't like it, and would like those 3-5 minutes of your life back(I don't know how fast you read), hey, it's not my fault....... what? it's not THAT kind of a disclaimer...  


Rogue and Remy are property of Marvel. Batman is property of DC. Ha. Just kidding. there's no Batman in here.  


Vicki Lew | Caroline Dillon | June 1998

**Part Eight**

Rogue awoke early the next morning out of habit. Though the pain in her limbs had subsided to a dull, stiff ache, after a few attempts she found herself unable to return to sleep. Old habits died hard, she noted wryly.

Earlier at 3:00AM that morning she had sat by the door, listening for the slightest disturbances that might have heralded first signs of attack. Hours has passed before exhaustion had coaxed her back to bed.

Now she gently rose from the linens, careful not to rouse Remy. Retrieving a bottled juice from the fridge, she shuffled back to the bedroom.

Her life had been dictated to her for seemingly as long as she could remember, and now faced with unscheduled time, she was at a complete loss at what to do with herself. Until her eyes, which surveyed the darkened room, came to rest on a trace of rose just beginning to slip in through the window.

With the calmest expression, Rogue quietly pulled a chair up to the window and treated herself to a sight she hadn't witnessed in years. The rose intensified and then gave way to a vermilion glow; if she closed her eyes she could almost feel its warmth on her skin. She had forgotten just how magnificent a simple sunrise could be.

Remy stirred lightly and she turned to gaze upon the man to whom she was indebted to for this early morning spectacle and much more. His eyes flickered with dreaming, a smile softly curving his full mouth. He had the face of an angel in sleep.

_And the charm of the Devil_, she mused silently.

Slowly Remy shifted, his arm unconsciously roaming the space where she had been, seemingly searching for her. She delicately returned to the bed, sliding closer to him, letting his hand come to rest on her forearm. Gently gripping her arm, he slipped quietly back into his dreams.

Satisfied that he was truly asleep, she allowed herself to unabashedly drink in the face she found immeasurably attractive. The long curled lashes that shaded his eyes, the straight aquiline nose. The stubble-clad chiselled jaw. And, of course, his soft inviting lips. She felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him, to feel his velvet mouth against hers once more. To run her hands down his strong neck, over his bronzed well defined chest. She crept closer to him, lowering her face to within inches of Remy's.

His breath tickled her face warmly.

Just one kiss wouldn't hurt would it?

She leaned closer.

RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!

Remy's eyes snapped open at the sound of the telephone and he found himself starring directly into twin misty emerald orbs. Equally startled as well, Rogue's cheeks flushed as she quickly drew away from him. However, her retreat was not fast enough to hide her foiled intention. He flashed her an impish grin, knowing full well what she had been about to do.

_Sneakin' a kiss, eh? Can't blame de femme for tryin'_ he thought with his characteristic cockiness. Her attraction to him and her embarrassment both pleased and amused him. He gave her an affectionate wink as he casually picked up the handset.

"Oui?"

Rogue gathered her wits and regarded him silently as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"Dat's superb Jonathan. Would you mind bringing de keys and package up to de room, s'il vous plait? Excellent."

"What's that all about?" Rogue asked.

He rolled onto his side to face her purposefully giving her an ideal view of his torso, enticing her. He was hoping he could bait her into that kiss that Jonathan had unknowingly prevented.

Remy gave her the gist of the conversation, explaining that his connections had come through for them and a new car and various necessities had been delivered to the hotel early this morning. As they spoke their old set of wheels was probably being stripped down and destroyed. He noted with enjoyment that all the while he spoke her eyes often strayed from his face.

"You got some connections. Think maybe Ah underestimated you."

"Dat goes without sayin'. Remy got a few tricks up his sleeve yet." he winked.

"Not right now you don't," she responded, eyeing his bare chest.

"Dieu, could it be she actually has a sense of humor?" he asked incredulously, inching a bit closer, pleased she did not flinch away.

"Ah got a few tricks up my sleeves too, ya know."

It was his turn to appraise her. One of the straps of her gown had slipped off her shoulder revealing the curve of one of her breasts. He opened his mouth to repeat her words she leaned in close and held a finger up to his lips.

"No stealin' mah lines, Swamp Rat."

"What den can I steal?"

Before she could answer, he kissed her soundly and she responded by pressing her body up against his. She ran her hands up his well-muscledback and leaned harder into his kiss, revelling in the heat they were creating. His hands firmly roamed her body, enjoying the feel of her beneath the silk. Her gown rode up as they moved against one another, their legs intertwining.

A staccato knock sounded at the door. They broke away from one another, both a bit out of breath. It took a few more moments before they were willing to disengage from one another. He flashed her a melting grin as he rose from the bed, grabbing his sunglasses. She rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes.

"Damn."

* * *

Remy took the set of keys and a large suitcase from Jonathan.

"You do wonderful work." Remy told him as he gave him the usual tip and dismissed him.

Curious, Rogue crawled to the end of the bed where Remy set down the luggage. She perched on her knees and, discarding his sunglasses, Remy once again drew in close, slinging one arm around the small of her back. Silently she asked him a question with her eyes. He gave her a long deep kiss before he answered her.

"Much as I like you in dat gown -- and I do, I tell you true -- I t'ought you might need a larger choice of wardrobe. It ain't much, but it'll do til we kin get you some real clothes."

She climbed off the bed and stood behind him, peering over his shoulder as he began to sift through the contents of the suitcase, her arms around him this time. Something caught her attention and she leaned around him and pulled an item from the suitcase. Arching an eyebrow she held up a bra. It too was silk, but reasonably modest, and checking the size she found it to be correct.

"And just how did you know that?" she inquired suspiciously.

"C'est une secret."

"Ah'll bet." She sniffed haughtily.

Amongst the clothes Remy found an envelope. He opened it and read it silently as Sabine sorted through the rest of the suitcase. She found enough clothes for 2 more days, all miraculously the right size.

_This just keeps getting better by the minute._ she thought sardonically.

Clearing his throat, he folded up the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. His face now bore a stern expression. He marched to the bathroom and she followed, limping slightly. He produced a lighter and placing the trash can in the tub and holding the envelope over it, set it alight. Rogue regarded him in silence until the paper had completely burned and Remy doused the whole mess under the faucet and flushed the remaining murky water down the toilet.

By the look of his face, it wasn't good news. Her heart began to beat faster as her stomach dropped out, the romantic mood destroyed.

"What did it say?"

"Don't worry." He stood and left the bathroom.

"Don't give me that shit!" she snapped, fast on his heels.

He faced her.

"Dey hit my apartment late last night. Tore de Hell outta it. An' dey sendin' feelers out into de underground, makin' inquiries tryin' to find out 'xactly just who I am. Dey may not be de most discreet people, but dey sure are powerful. But I guess you would know better, hein?"

She clenched her jaw the weight of the situation crashing down upon her once again. She could no longer submerge herself in this nice little escapism, even if Remy made it extremely tempting. And she didn't want to have to rely on him like a child any further.

Seeing the dark expression on her face, he continued, "Dey don't know where we are just yet or where we headed. An I don't 'tink dey gonna learn before we manage to git dere."

He grasped each of her upper arms and gave a light squeeze.

"Relax, dere's noting we can do til I hear back from mes amis. Dey makin sure de way is clear. " He looked her square in the eyes. "Now I done the best dat I could, it's time for you to keep your promise. I hear dey got one heckava pool here. An' Lord knows I could use a soak right now. In de meantime you get yourself situated 'cause when I come back I wanna know 'xactly what I gotten m'self into."

"Yoah're goin swimmin'!?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"Oui. Nous sommes tuer de temps*. And I need de break. Dere ain't nothin eider o'us kin do right now 'cept sit tight. I know you don't like it, but we got no choice. No point drivin ourselves crazy wit' worry."

'Like Hell there isn't.' Rogue thought hotly.

"Ah guess not." she replied instead, not wanting to start a pointless debate. She flopped down into a chair, and winced having given her injuries a jolt.

He gathered his things and headed for the bathroom.

"Course you welcome to come along an admire de view, if you want."

"Mah, mah. Look who thinks the sun comes up to hear him crow." she rolled her eyes. "Thanks anyway, Cajun."

"Alright, but I don wan come back and find you climbin' de curtains."

* * *

She busied herself with getting her body back into shape once he was gone. Stretching her body as much as pain would allow she worked out all the kinks and tension and began to run herself through a set of calethestics.

_Portman's out there, doin' his best to track me down, and here ah am, sittin', in a luxury hotel, twiddling my thumbs. There's gotta be something ah could do, but other than boltin'. Ah don't know just what._

She winced a little as her movements struck a sore spot.

_Ah'm not used to thinkin' in this way...It's more logical to wait and make sure the road ahead's safe, rather than rush headlong into the unknown and risk bein' caught. But it's hard to distract myself now that ah've regained most of my faculties._

_Maybe ah should take a cue from Remy and relax. But then again he doesn't know how dangerous Portman and his men are. What right do ah have to continue involving Remy in this mess? For all his effort it's most likely he's gonna end up with a bullet between his eyes._

Now more loosened yet increasingly mentally focused, she took the pace of her workout up a few notches, determined to break a sweat, whether her body wanted to or not.

_If ah left him now, there's a chance that Portman might leave him alone. It would hurt us both, but ah prefer that kind of pain to any other that Portman might inflict. However, Remy had made it quite clear that he chose and wants to stay by and help me, regardless of the consequences. He's saved my life and taken care of me, don't ah owe him the respect to grant him that one request?_

A sheen of sweat now coated her skin, running down her face and back.She, however, took no notice of this, continuing on automatically, preoccupied.

_You know the answer to that girl. Accept it and move on. It's you and Remy now and as such, you are responsible for each other. So far he's been carryin' all the weight. S'about time you started contributing._

_**BEEP-BEEP**_

The shrill alarm of her wristwatch intruded upon her thoughts, signalling the end of her timed workout .The readout on its display flashed her vitals and she nodded her head in satisfaction.

She was still in shape. It would only be a matter of time before she was fully functioning.

_Praise th'Lord!_ she exclaimed with mock graciousness. Patience was neverone of her strong suites. She towelled off her brow. _Ah'll get myself cleaned up, and go over just what ah'm going to tell Remy. Then again...Maybe just how much ah'm gonna tell him._

* * *

Stepping out of the shower, she selected the cream toned stretch lace wrap that was opaque through the bodice and gently slid it on. Though it hid her injuries well enough, its plunging neckline revealed a fair amount of cleavage. She wondered what Remy had told these people about her that would have made them select a garment like this. Though a bit sexy, it complimented the streamlined form-fitting dark brown pants she now wore. Looking in the mirror she allowed herself to smile, but the expression soon faded.

Remembering her resolve, she quickly repacked the suitcase and stiffly sat down in a chair by the window, awaiting Remy's return.

* * *

He returned whistling and catching sight of her came to a complete stop just outside the bedroom door. Just as quickly he resumed his saunter into the room, hastily pretending he had not noticed how good she looked. But he had trouble hiding the smile that threatened to ruin his pucker.

"Enjoy yoah swim, sugar?"

"Quite, ma cherie."

"Good. Then you best prepare yoahself. Ah'm ready to keep mah end of the bargain."

Hearing her no nonsense tone, he opted not to change, but instead kicked off his slippers and lay sideways on the bed facing her. Casually he propped himself up on one elbow.

"I'm listening."

* * *

"My pa, well let's just say he wasn't the most lovin' man. Not much for family."

I got a feelin' dat characterisation probably an understatement. But she don't go into it and quickly continue on.

She ran away and lived on de street for a time round de age of 15. Took to stealin' when she started to starve. Den one night she got caught. Held at gunpoint by a storeowner. He tried "something funny" on her and next t'ing she knew she was standin' over his corpse, his gun in her hands.

De very hands she stare at now like Lady Macbet' herself.

She won't look up at me, looks anywhere but. I cover dose hands with my own; she give me a weak smile and goes on wit' a li'l more confidence.

Police got her, and seein' as she was breakin' into de store to steal, dey don' pay much attention to her claim dat she killed de grocer in self-defense. Dey charge her wit murder. Just a scrappy, half-starved, kick-a-bout 15 year old girl and she facin' death row.

She was terrified.

Den Portman shows up outta nowhere. Offers her a choice: work for him or go on trial. She knows de score. She go on trial she be found guilty.

Dat might as well have been fact.

But now Portman givin' her a way out. It's up to her. Life or death? Not much of a choice, hein? So she went with him, unknowingly into a world of cruelty an' forced wills.

She work for de black government. She get rid of any political figures dat pose a threat.

She be an assassin.

De girl, she do it 'cos she was afraid o'pullin' away from the Organisation. She knew what happen t'dose who try to leave. Dey never see the next dawn of day 'gain. She didn't disobey Portman none. He treated her like a jewel when she followed orders and did well; almost fatherly to her. Other days when she fuck up, he beat her, but he never let anyone else touch her.

She t'ought o'killin herself countless times everyday, but somet'ing inside her never let her go t'rough wit' it.

I ask her, "Den why did ya defect dis time?"

De question seem to startle her some, like she wasn't quite sure herself. She mulled it over for a piece. She hadn't dare t'attempt anythin' until dat hit on de senator. Dat night she was finally alone, a bit a space b'tween her an de rank breat' o'de Organisation dat always been puffin' down her neck.

Den I showed up, so different from anyone she'd ever known. She ain't seen no one wit a spark a life to 'em before. It intrigued her, she wanted some of dat spark for herself. Against her better judgment, she accepted my offer to team up. Bein' on her own and bein' wit me, it made her almost feel free for a second.

An' she liked dat feelin'. Decided she like de feel o'bein her own person, makin' up her own mind for herself. She knew den she wan t'have a life of her own, however short dat may be. From dat point on she didn't care bout not'in else but salvagin' what was left o'her humanity, consequences be damned.

She be silent now, and takin' deep breaths and removed her hand from mine, sayin' dat she be done wit' her li'l story-tellin'. But dere's still one t'ing I want to know. If we gon even hope t'get out a dis we gon have to trust each other. No hidin' b'hin codenames. No more secrets.

"One las t'ing chere. I'd like t'know de name of de woman I'm riskin' my neck for."

She pales a bit but seems to grasp the depth of what I'm askin'.

"Sabine." De word come outlike it's completely alien to her tongue. "Sabine Andrea Rogers."

I hold out my hand.

"Remy Lebeau. Pleasure t'meet you."

* * *

Remy left the room to get himself a beverage, and Sabine used the few moments of privacy to to rub her eyes and temples. Even though Rogue had left out the more personal aspects of the account, she was still glad to be finished. She straightened up as he returned, already polishing off his drink.

"Remy, there is still a chance foah you. If Ah leave now, most likely they won't come after ya..."

In a giagantic gulp, he swallowed the last of the liquid.

"A ca oui*! Don' start dat again! Thought I made it clear, girl, where I stood."

"Ya did, but that was before you knew everything. Only fair to give you another chance to get outta this disaster now that you're well-informed."

He opened his mouth to protest but she put a quick finger to his lips.

"Ah knew you wouldn't take it." she said quietly.

"Oh, so you finally started listening to Remy, eh?"

"Don't let it go to yoah head, sugar."

"Pas bien sur!"

He stripped off the robe on his way to the bathroom. Wearing only a pair of black Speedos (a look only he and a handful of other men in this world could pull off) he turned to face her. She caught herself mid-ogle.

_Damn that man!_

"Will you please order us up some lunch, sometin spicy, while I make m'self presentable?"

"Uh, ....'course." She muttered, glad to busy herself with the task of locating the room service menu.

Or anything, for that matter, that would keep her eyes from fixating on him. She shook her head as she rummaged through the bedside dresser's drawers, admonishing herself.

_Ya'd think Ah'd never saw a man before!_

He made one last comment to her as he shut the door.

"You can put your eyes back in der sockets, mignonne. Not like you ain't seen me in de buff before."

She dropped the menu as she turned a bright scarlet. Groaning in embarrassment, she buried her face in her arms.

"Oh mah God....."

* * *

_**Notes:**_  
*_Nous sommes tuer de temps_-We have time to kill  
_A ca oui_-That's enough!  
_Pas bien sur!_-But of course not!

* * *

  


To be continued...


	9. Free for a Second Part 9

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
Vicki and I do not own Gambit and Rogue. Marvel... er.. uh.. Toybiz, or whoever, I don't really give a crap, does. We are using them without their permission, or frankly their knowledge. And that makes it ok. What they don't know can't hurt them, unless by chance they happen to come across this little "work". And even then, worse-case scenario, they'll suffer mild brain damage and a phobia of reading and the internet. And really, what are they gonna do to us? Come to our house, take us outside and shoot us in the street? I mean, let's be real here. No one could even find my house. I can barely locate it. Are they gonna sue us? Go right ahead, take all I got. You can't even buy a gumball for two cents anymore. Take my "assets"? I only got 2 assets; the one I'm sittin' on and the one on my shoulders. I'm not quite sure which is more valuable. I'm pretty sure they're chaulk-full of asses already. But if they want my head, feel free. Fat lotta good that'll do 'em. Only thing mine's good for is, possibly, an old fashioned game of soccer. For the first 10 minutes or so. Then it gets all mushy. Not to mention the disentigration. That's how that soccer started y'a know. With heads.  


Vicki Lew | Caroline Dillon | October 1998

**Part 9**

"Where are we goin'? Aren't we headed ta a hotel or somthin'?" Rogue asked, her eyes soaking in the sights of New Orleans in the late morning hours as the car cruised along the busy avenue...

They had received word the previous afternoon from Remy's associates that the road ahead was clear. Hastily, they had packed and checked out of the posh hotel, much to Jonathan's disappointment. By early evening they had bid the city of Knoxville adieu. Driving all night, they wove a tangled trail down to and through Louisiana, trying to make their path as difficult to follow as possible.

Though Rogue had insisted upon keeping Remy company during the entirety of the trek, 5 hours into the drive; she could no longer stave off her body's need for some healing sleep. With a quiet insistence, the car's motion lulled her away. Daylight had awoke her just outside of New Orleans.

"We goin' shoppin." Her companion said casually. "Need ta get you some proper attire. We got a dinner tonight. Gotta look good, neh?"

She blinked her eyes, simultaneously raising her eyebrows.

"Shoppin'? Dinner?"

"Dere be an echo in here? Oui, tonight you goin' meet my clan and dey goin' meet de woman who dey be helpin'. Wanna make a good impression, n'cest pas?"

She swallowed hard. She didn't want to make any impression at all. Truth be told, Rogue didn't care much for people. 99% of all the people she had met were complete and utter bastards. Manipulative creatures that used false sincerity to get what they wanted. Socializing and relationships were a burden that the Organization had rid her of. The prospect of meeting a whole clan, to whom she was already indebted, was wholly unappetizing.

However, she guessed she owed it to them. And some part of her wanted to express her gratitude for their aid, but...

"A CLAN? How BIG is a clan??"

"Relax chere, it's a clan o'people, not 'gators. Dey ain't gonna eat'cha."

"Says you. Ah don't like it. Ah ain't got no people skills. An' this shoppin' and eatin' in a restaurant don't sit none too well with me either."

"Shit, you always dis much fun girl? You tellin' Remy here dat that you go round de world on life -t'reatnin' missions on a whim, but you 'friad of sittin' down wit' ma famille? Chicken."

"Ah am not a coward. It's asinine to be jaunting around in public places. Why don't we just paint nice, bright bull's eyes on our foreheads?"

"Rogue....Sabine, relax. First off, we ain't goin' to no rest'rant. We eatin' in de family home. Second, we bein' watched out for here. Ma family make sure dat no harm come to us."

He pulled into a back alley and up to an iron wrought gate. Retrieving a small remote from his pocket he pressed a button and the gate opened. They pulled into a small carriage house hidden from the street. He turned to face her as he unbuckled.

"We safe. Now stop worryin'." He said confidently, oblivious to the dark shadows that had already invaded the Big Easy.

* * *

Executive of Operations Portman cleared his throat, annoyed. He'd received notification earlier that morning that the powers above requested a meeting with him.

_Shit_

That could only mean they had learned of his incompetence in dealing with Sabine. There were few in the Org. that held a position of greater power than Portman. Those who did were capable of making him disappear before he could draw a breath of protest, should they deem him unfit. Their power was awesome. In fact he wondered why they hadn't taken the initiative in going after Rogue in the first place. Obviously they had thought it a trifle not worth their priceless time. Portman knew in his gut it was also a test.

To prove his worthiness and ability to them. And he was eager to please.

He coveted a place not only at their side, but one day, above them.

_Rogue. What a fitting codename._ he thought bitterly. After all he'd done for her, this was how she repaid him? His position in jeopardy, his pride wounded, he decided it was time to take matters into his own harsh steel hands. He wanted no more fuck-ups.

There was a knock at the door.

"Sir?"

"Come."

His secretary stepped through the doorway and halted sharply.

"Sir," she said stiffly, her communications headset still adorning her head.

"Yes, report."

"Operative Stein has acquired the information on the unknown male accomplice you requested."

"About damn time."

"I know, sir. He apologizes. Apparently this man virtually doesn't exist. Stein had to go above and beyond normal procedures to..."

Portman cut her off harshly.

"Enough. I don't give a rat's ass how hard it was. Just give me the information."

She quickly strode forward, unfazed by his tone, and handed him a green dossier full of printouts. As he scanned them she gave him an overview of their contents.

"His name is Remy Lebeau. He's a member of the Thieves' Guild of New Orleans."

He looked up, arching a brow.

"Thieves' Guild? I thought that was just a myth."

"As did I sir. But apparently some other agencies have had run-ins with them before. That is primarily how Operative Stein was able to compile most of his information."

"Continue."

"Age approximately 26. Height..."

"Unimportant. Have they located them?"

"We sent tracers down to New Orleans yesterday. Had them locate a few known members and associates of the Guild already on file and trailed them. Most leads were dead ends, but one led us to Knoxville, Tenn. There they delivered a car and some suitcases to a hotel."

"How are you certain they're connected?"

"Though was no actual visual confirmation, after interviewing the hotel staff, one employee did mention a peculiar detail about one of the guests he'd been serving." She stopped, smiling proudly.

"And?"

"It was a woman with a white streak right down the middle of her hair."

Her mood was infectious, and Portman found himself smiling too.

They'd found her.

"The car was seen headed south last night. Despite their best efforts to throw us, it was tracked to..."

"Let me guess... New Orleans. Stupid bastard's looking for home court advantage."

"Sir, we have already dispatched several more operatives. It's only a matter of time..."

He rose, again interrupting her mid-sentence.

"Sir?"

"Tell our operatives I want them found, but not, I repeat, not confronted. Trail them."

"Sir?"

He donned his suit jacket.

"I'm going down there personally. You know the saying. If you want it done right...I'm taking no chances this time. In the meantime, you're in charge of the office."

"Yes sir!"

"Notify all those necessary. My meeting may have to wait. Dismissed."

As she exited he prepared himself. It would be foolish for an all-out confrontation . The Organization was powerful but there was too much of a chance of something going wrong if they engaged the Thieves' Guild in their home city.

He had to get Sabine alone. Convince her to leave the protection of the the Guild. A cruel smile distorted his features.

And he knew just how.

* * *

They ate a quick breakfast which Rogue all but swallowed whole as she slumped half-way down in her chair, throwing rapid glances over each shoulder every couple of moments.

Remy simply laughed at her behavior and waited for her to give herself a good case of heartburn.

_That'd learn her._

'Ya know,' he leaned towards her speaking in a confidential tone. 'Ya keep gulpin' dat down like ya are, it goin' make your nose get real athletic.'

As to confirm his words she abruptly began to choke on her last bite. Quickly she took a huge swig of Chicory coffee and forced the whole mess down.

"Tol' ya."

She wiped her mouth. "Ah can take the hot, smartass. It's the not chewin'."

He laughed.

"So slow down den stupid. We got time."

"Ah told you Ah don't like bein' out in the open. Makes me nervous. We're bound to be noticed."

"Well t'ink about how much attention we gonna get if I have ta give you de Heimlich right here."

"Point."

She slowed down bit by bit and began to enjoy the taste of the meal. She even seemed to relish the coffee, he noted with surprise. Outside of Louisiana, Chickaree was not a popular coffee flavor. As he had, she wore sunglasses, and with a bit of make-up, they had managed to almost entirely conceal her bruises.

Not that it would have mattered. They were in New Orleans. Sabine could have run through the streets naked if she wanted and not caused many an eye to bat.

Remy looked her over again, as she finished her last bite.

_OK, maybe not naked..._

He smiled at his private joke.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

Her expression clearly revealed that she knew whatever he wasn't letting on, was at her expense. However instead of persisting, she chose to give him a nasty look over the rim of her coffee mug.

"Like dat coffee, do ya? Not most everybody takes to it chere. It's a hard one to love."

"Sugar, Ah can eat grounds. This is much more pleasant to swallow."

She set the empty mug down.

"You finished?"

"Yup."

"Bien. Den let's go spend some money."

* * *

They strode up and down the banquettes pressed closed together. Their proximity, however, wasn't due to lack of room, but rather Rogue's efforts at trying to conspicuously play bodyguard. If he was unwilling to heed her insistence that they were still in danger, then she would watch out for the both of them.

At first a bit reluctant and not in quite the right mood or frame of mind to shop, Sabine stood just inside the entrance of each store, arms crossed over her chest. With an undiscriminating glance she swept her eyes over the contents of the store, selecting nothing. By the fifth store Remy lost his patience with her and muttering something under his breath, quickly lunged forward, grabbing a tasteless dress that seemed to be about 2 parts leather and 3 parts mesh.

"What are you doin?" She asked, eyeing the sleazy garment .

"Well, if you ain't gonna choose nothin', den I chose for you."

He walked towards the cashier.

"Oh no you don't! Ah ain't wearin' that shrimp-net!"

"Den you better start shoppin' for yourself. Otherwise it's up to me. And you not gonna like what I pick, I guarantee."

"Fine." she replied curtly, grabbing the dress from his hands. She made to return it, but when he turned his back she tucked it under an arm and quickly hid it under a few things she found to her liking.

She wouldn't let him win so easy.

She tried on a few shirts and pants while Remy sat in a chair outside the dressing room waiting patiently, basking in the smiles women flashed him as they passed by.

"How's it goin'? You find anythin' you like?" he called out.

"Yeah, a few things. But I'm not so sure about this one. Don't know if I should get it or not..."

She was glad he couldn't see her face and the large devious smile perched there.

"Let me see, chere. I help you make up your mind."

"Well...okay," She cast a last look in the mirror. 

The garment could basically be described as an ultra-short, long-sleeved, ring-necked, red mesh dress with a hint of leather. It clung to her body, closer than a second skin and just barely came below the line of her buttocks. The dress was completely translucent, save for where someone had a modesty attack at the last moment and stitched a piece of leather to the thin material. The amoeba-shaped leather wrapped around the entire creation, starting thin under her left arm and widening to just manage to cover both nipples, letting the rest of her abundant breasts spill out on either side.

Again it shrank at her waist as it wrapped down and around increasing its girth to almost cover her rear. It finished its last turn creating a wiggle of fabric across her lower abdomen, a good 7 inches below her bellybutton. She looked like she was wrapped in a red orange peel.

Barely.

It was ugly

It was tacky

It was perfect.

She walked out.

"Remy, tell me what ya think of this."

He turned towards her, his mouth open to make a reply that never came. Open it hung as he sat, stone cold eyes locked onto the vision before him. She swore she could see his eyes burning hot right through his sunglasses.

"That's what I thought." She smiled.

Noticing she had unwittingly attracted the attention of the store's other customers, she quickly retreated to her fitting room and scrambled gratefully back into her underwear. She suspected that Remy had never enjoyed watching a femme walk away from him so much in his whole life.

* * *

They returned to the sidewalks after their purchase in which the little red number was not included, much to Remy's chagrin. After a while the beautiful scenery and easy going people of the city worked its charm on Rogue. She ceased to dart her head about, looking for something unseen.

Instead she chose to admire the iron-wrought balconies, the street car which passed by occasionally, or the musician that had set up shop right on the banquette. Giving in to the humidity in the air, she slowed her pace.

New Orleans was not a place where you wanted to move too fast, unless you had a particular fondness of being sticky and sweaty. Absent-mindedly, she hummed a tune that she'd picked up from a street musician as they wove their way in and out of boutiques. For his part, Remy genuinely seemed to enjoy showing Rogue a bit of his hometown. Telling her small tales of things he'd done in his youth, stories that were connected with shops or people they passed by. About night life here, and gator-hunting. What were tourist traps and what were real points of interest . Bags in hand, he finally led Sabine to a couture.

"Pick out something for tonight chere. Nothin' too ritzy, but elegant none de less. Somethin' special."

With that he left to go find something for himself. She wandered amidst the sea of fabric, lost, until she spied a beautiful black gown hanging on a rack in the corner. It was exquisite.

With Remy nowhere in sight, she hastily grabbed one in her size, wanting it to be a surprise.

"May I start a fitting room for you, miss?"

Rogue jumped and whirled to face the petite sales attendant .

"Uh..yes. Please." Rogue all but threw the garment at the woman, keeping an eye out for Remy.

"Certainly." The sales attendant responded, making no attempt to hide her curiosity at Rogue's unease. "I will hang it outside your room. When you're ready just go right in. My name is Mirette. Let me know if I can be of further assistance."

Sabine watched her withdraw. Taking a few moments to ascertain where Remy was, she covertly discovered him examining several suits. Satisfied that he was occupied with his own purchase, she all but sprinted back to the dressing rooms. Snatching the dress from the hook, she began to push open the door when a rough hand grabbed her wrist and violently pulled her inside. She found herself locked in the embrace of someone larger and obviously much stronger than herself.

Her mouth covered painfully tight, she didn't dare struggle as she suddenly felt the all-too-familiar prodding of cold metal against her spine. Her blood froze within her veins. Looking in the opposite mirror she stared calmly at the visage of her unwelcome visitor.

Portman.

"Hello Sabine." he spoke smoothly in his irritatingly fake upper-class accent. "Miss me at all?"

Her stomach threatened to dispel its contents but her expression was void of her distress as he released the hand over her mouth.

"Not at all, now that you ask."

Portman gave a snicker. She'd always been a smartass. He ground the gun into her injured ribs purposefully.

"Always the same Rogue. Obstinate. Too much so for your own good if you ask me. Look at the cluster fuck you're in now."

The young woman narrowed her eyes and stared coldly into her mentor's icy gray ones.

"Yeah, well you know what they say: You live what you learn."

Again he jabbed her forcefully with the gun muzzle. She bit down on her lip.

"Let's cut the small talk and get something clear, Sabine. I've always treated you better than the rest and this is how you show you gratitude? I should have left you to rot in that cell. At least 'til they put you to death because it looks like that's how you're going to end up anyway. What a waste of my time. What the Hell were you thinking you stupid girl? No one leaves the Organization. Not alive, anyway. You know that perfectly well. The ones that did are out there somewhere, nothing but abandoned mutilated, putrid carcasses. Is that how you want to end up?"

She kept silent.

Eyes burning, Portman brazenly lifted her clear off the floor and gave her a bone-rattling shake.

"Is it Sabine?!"

"Maybe it's what Ah've always wanted," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"I knew you were going to say that," he replied, proud yet annoyed at his pupil's defiance. The expression on his face grew more serious than death.

He was ready to pull his trump card.

"This little game has gone on long enough. I won't have you discredit me any further."

He gripped her arms tighter and brought her face closer to his. He knew somewhere in there Sabine had a conscience and he was relying on that to be her undoing.

"You listen to me and listen well. I know who your little savior is. And I know all about his 'family'. More importantly, I know how to get to them. It's going to be easy, really easy."

He studied her face closely. There, he saw what he was searching for. It existed only for a nanosecond, but something akin to concern had flashed in her eyes. Inwardly he smiled.

She was his.

"You know what we're capable of Rogue. You've seen it. Felt it. You put up any more of a struggle and we'll not only come after you, we'll round up the whole lot of the Thieves Guild. Let you and Remy watch as we put them all to an agonizing death. Let you hear them as they writhe, cursing the day one of their own was given life. And then, before your own death Sabine, you will have the distinct honor of watching as Remy Lebeau is tortured until his heart gives out. He'll go to his grave, his last thoughts in this world of suffering and hatred. Hatred for the one who brought this fate upon them. You, Sabine. Do you really want to be responsible for that?"

She remained quiet, face completely stoic. Then slowly her eyes lowered and her head bowed slightly. She knew this wasn't a threat. Portman spoke the truth. He'd won.

He set her down and smoothed out the wrinkles he created in her clothes.

"I see we have reached an understanding. You are to make an exit tonight. You're a capable assassin, I will leave the how up to you. A car will be waiting in front of 939 Esplanade Avenue to take you to your fate."

He said this as he regarded his reflection in the mirror, straightening his own attire. As he turned to leave, he gave her a final warning. "And Sabine, if anyone is the wiser you know what will happen. Take great care."

With that, he was gone.

* * *

Her knees, fighters to the end, gave out seconds after Portman's exit. Her mind was no longer in New Orleans by the time her butt hit the floor. She was beyond thought. It took every ounce of concentration and strength she had just to keep breathing. In and out and in again, she just simply sat there.

"Chere?" Remy's voice jolted her from her shock. "Sabine, where you at, girl?"

Shit, she had to do this right, she couldn't flake out now. If he detected the faintest hint of her distress, if anything roused his suspicions, they were worse than dead. A brief mental image of a man she'd watched Portman torture flickered in her mind, only this time his face was Remy's. It was his blood that surged freely down his crown, mingling with the red and drowning out the black in his eyes. His voice, hoarse from hours of screaming, that begged her without care for dignity, as he lay unable to rise from a pool of his own urine. His voice that damned her when she refused. It was his bones that she heard shatter with every blow, his scorched skin she smelled every time the electroshock gun made contact.

His nails that were wrenched from their lodgings and forced down his throat. And that was before Portman had gotten into it. With palpable force she slammed that memory back into the vault where she'd locked it away with infinite others. Recalling that would do no good now.

Somehow she would have to hide every iota of her anxiety from him.

Not for the first time, she found herself grateful for the acting lessons she had been put through by the Org. She could pull this off; she had been trained to.

"Ah'm in here, Remy." she called back with forced but believable cheer. "Gimme 5 minutes, then Ah'll be ready to go."

"Alright, no rush. I jus' go chat up de sales ladies." he half-joked back and she heard his footsteps tread away.

She quickly tried on the dress, no longer concerned with its visual appeal, only with its fit. Satisfied, she hastily redressed and then sunk to the floor again. Settling into a lotus position she proceeded to meditate, something else she'd picked up from the Org. Slowing her breathing, she settled on a soothing image, usually a warm bath, and pushed all thoughts of Portman and her impending escape to the far recesses of her mind.

_Concentrate._ she told herself. _Concentrate on control._

After a few moments, she had managed to shove Portman to the back of her thoughts and sealed him off. There they would wait until the time came to deal with them. For now she would have to act as casual as possible with Remy. Or at least as casual as was normal for her. Rising to her feet once more, she studied her image in the mirror, tidying her hair and clothing. Then she flashed herself a couple of practice smiles.

She could do this. She had to.

* * *

Portman had already begun barking orders at his awaiting operatives before he even reached their car.

"Get me H.Q. on the phone!"

"Sir we have them already. Chief Stark called a few minutes ago requesting to speak with you sir. He said it was of the utmost importance."

Of course it was if it was Stark calling. He was after all, the head of the Organization.

_Shit, what does he want?_

Portman was glad that he could confidently reassure his superior that he would have Sabine by night's end.

Slowly he entered the car and reached for the phone.

"Portman here, sir."

"Update, E.O. Portman," came the gruff reply. This man was all business.

"I have made contact with our quarry. Rest assured sir, she will be ours before dawn."

The news that Rogue remained at large after a personal confrontation would have vexed Stark had it come from anyone other than Portman. He had never known Portman to not make good on his promises. If he said Rogue would be theirs shortly, Stark wholly trusted that she would be.

"I have every confidence in you, Portman."

"Sir," Portman continued, asking a question, though he did not relish hearing the answer to, knew the grave necessity of its purpose. "What are you recommendations for the disposal of Operative 357?"

Stark cleared his ancient throat.

"There is to be no disposal at the time of capture."

Portman blinked, stunned. "Sir?"

"You are to bring Operative 357 home, Portman. What happens to her between New Orleans and here is entirely in your hands. However, understand that she is not to retain any severe damage. I want her secured when you arrive. She will be properly dealt with, have no worries. But not until I deem it is the appropriate time. You are to report to us once she is safely in custody. We have an important matter to discuss with you. It involves your protege."

So that was it. They needed something from Sabine. And she would remain alive until they had gotten it.

_Lucky bitch._ Portman thought incredulously. Then again, Stark had stated she would be "dealt with". Maybe she was not so fortunate.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We await your arrival."

Portman hung up the phone. He had a good amount of time to pass before Sabine was to deliver herself. His mind began to race furtively as he leaned back into the plush interior, trying to unravel the mystery behind Rogue's stay of execution.

* * *

To be continued...


	10. Free for a Second Part 10

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer**: All recognisable characters belong to Marvel. Storyline and plot belong to me me me!

Vicki Lew | December 2000

**Part 10**  


Ah've had a sick feelin' in my gut the whole evening. The feeling of dread that just sticks to you like the stink from a skunk.   
  
Lookin' in the mirror, ah look like a million bucks, with my hair all done, and the dress ah picked out earlier hugging to my every feminine curve. Had things been different, ah would've felt as great as ah look.  
  
Some Operatives must be thinkin' me a fuckin' stupid bitch right now. Ah won't say that part of me ain't kickin' myself in the ass for letting Remy LeBeau tag along in that assignment in the first place, but yet another part of me is grateful ta have gotten out of the rut, even if I were free for a second, with a hell of a consequence ta pay for.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the Cajun gazin' at me with appreciative eyes. There's a lump in my throat; if only we were in another place, in another time, and ah was not what ah am...Lord, Remy, we would've been perfect.   
  
Perfect.  
  
Ya look tres magnifique, chere. He said softly, and intimately.  
  
My actin' skills kick in, and ah flash him a coy smile and thank him for the compliment in his mother tongue.  
  
Ah'm all set. Vous?  
  
He took a long drag on his cigarette and eyed me from head to toe. We're too early,  
  
Ah realise what that look in his eye is- lust, desire, whatever ya want ta call it. Ah know it because it's what ah'm feelin' too. How can a man look so damn delicious fully-dressed in an Armani suit?  
  
What's it like ta be with a man that you've grown ta care for; a man that actually gives a shit about ya so much that he's willing ta risk his life just to help ya? Ah don't think it's just plain simple gratitude or lust.   
  
Girl, don't even think about it, ever. No point contemplatin' what you won't live to experience.  
  
Just take what ya can have right now...  


* * *

The air in the room was charged with sexual tension, and they both knew it. .  
  
In a husky voice she asked, So how much more time do we have?  
  
Remy LeBeau cocked his head and estimated about an hour and a half.  
  
An hour half. One hour thirty minutes of something more than sex, and she wanted it.  
  
It had been a while since she had held out a shaky, unsure hand to anyone. She'd fucked before. Plenty times in fact, for the sake of the mission, just because it was part of her orders.   
  
But this time, it was of her own free will, and this time, the man standing opposite her meant more to her than just a target. It scared the hell out of her and it made her want to wail in sorrow that there would be no more chance of such a priviledge.  
  
Remy lost no time in discarding his cigarette and moved towards her slowly, taking her hand and kissing it softly, pulling her against his hard body. She pressed her lips against his hungrily, her tongue teasing and stroking his own.  
  
As he kissed her back, her hands unbuttoned his shirt deftly to slide them against his muscled abdomen, then up higher, skimming fleetingly over his flat male nipples, coaxing a hiss of pleasure from him. Skillfully, he unzipped her dress with one hand as the other cupped her right breast, kneading it gently, never breaking the kiss.  
  
Remy LeBeau smiled as the beautiful woman in his arms whimpered when his fingers teased her nipple into full attention then pinched it, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. Sabine reacted by grinding her hips against his; the evidence of his arousal pressing hard against her belly.  
  
As he slid the filmy dress off her shoulders, and his eyes roamed over her scantily-clad figure, his mind couldn't help drifting off to think how unreal this all was. They had been playing cat and mouse for the past few days, and now, suddenly, this? Why, and how...  
  
Mon dieu...'  
  
All previous thoughts fled his mind as he felt her hands cupping him through the soft material of his boxers. She had gotten busy divesting him of his suit and was kneeling before him, rubbing him to full erection. He grit his teeth as her fingers touched his hot cock again, guiding it out through the opening of his boxers. Panting, he let her trace the veins of his circumcised member with her soft tongue, but as she took the tip of it into her mouth, his hips bucked involuntarily- he knew they had to go slow or he'd burst like some pre-pubescent teenager.  
  
Go slow, Sabine, go slow, he begged, and she lifted her head in mercy.  
  
Pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bathtub, Sabine stood before him to unclasp her bra, shrugging the material off to reveal her full pert breasts, each crested with a rosy nipple. Immediately, he filled his hands with them, letting the nipples peek out from between his fingers. He released them only to replace his hands with his mouth, wetting her entire breast and suckling hard on each breasts alternately.  
  
She gasped and felt her eyes roll back at the sudden assault. Her knees buckled, only to have Remy catch her, pulling her to him to straddle his hips. As her sex met his between the thin layer of her silk panties, they both groaned out loud and a shared tremor shot through their bodies.  
  
Licking her dry lips seductively and watching Remy's face intently, Sabine shifted her hips ever so slightly, rubbing her pussy against his straining cock. She was rewarded with a choked sound from her lover, and a similar response from his own hips.   
  
Deciding it was her turn to squirm, Remy cupped her ass and jerked her hard against his pelvis, then slid his thumb down the front of her underwear. Sabine let out a little scream as his thumb found her clit, already slippery wet with her juices, and rubbed in tantalising little circles. His cock throbbed as he watch her go over the edge, her body spasming deliciously, her face contorted in sweet pleasure.  
  
As she came down from her high, she kissed him hard again, reaching down to untie the side-ties of her fancy panties. His hand came in way to take the garment off, caressing her bare buttocks, then sliding further down so that his fingers touched her vulva. He inched them a bit more and his long fingers entered her tight sex.  
  
They both hissed. Dieu, Sabine. Ya be so amazin', He whispered in her ear as he thrust two fingers into her pussy, testing her flesh.   
  
Ah want ya in me, Sabine begged as she tried to tug his boxers off.  
  
Obliglingly, he stood and carried her with him, her legs entwined round his hips, to slip his boxers off. Satisfied that they were both sinfully naked, he took her mouth once more as he guided himself into her.  
  
Oh Lord... Sabine could feel him fill her up completely, in more ways than one.  
  
With a slight stiffness, he made his way to the bed with her in his arms, each movement giving them both shocks of pleasure as his cock pumped gently in and out of her wet vagina.   
  
The Cajun lay Sabine gently on the bed, settling in, and began to thrust his hips slowly and deliciously. He latched his mouth onto her breasts again, stimulating her further. In return, she reached low to cup his balls as he fucked her, massaging them gently, causing him to pant harder. His hips worked faster as hers bucked to meet him, working up a sexual rhythm, feeling the pleasure building up between them.  
  
He told her in a ragged voice that he was cumming, and made an effort to withdraw from her, but she gripped him tightly in place.  
  
It's alright, Remy. she assured him, indicating that she was on protection.  
  
With that peace of mind, he increased his speed, his cock ramming into her noisily. She raked her fingernails over his back as she felt herself closing in.   
  
It hit them both suddenly, the orgasm of the other triggering more nerve endings, rolling them both in wave after wave of intense pleasure.

As things calmed, Remy planted the softest of kisses on her lips, and held her tight as they lay limply, recurperating.  


* * *

Dieu.  
  
When I woke she was still dere. I was expectin' her to be gone wit'out a trace.  
  
I confess dat I was suspicious when she came t'me earlier, and allowed dis sweet thing t'happen. Allowed herself ta be so vulnerable, knowin' dat it was goin' to be more dan jus' sex.  
  
Here she is, curled against me, soft curves and all. Seein' de remainin' bandages on her, I hope I didn't hurt her during our love-making. I look at de time. Great. We're gonna be late.  
  
I don' wanna get up yet, not with her nappin' in my arms like dis. I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. But duty calls, and besides, Poppa be real anal about bein' on time; won't do to make dis first impression a bad one. 

* * *

Ah've never been asleep all this time.  
  
Just pretended to, cos it's easier than strugglin' with my emotions wide awake in front of him.   
  
Damn, Sabby. Ya should've left while he was out.   
  
And miss those sweet caresses, and gentle kisses?  
  
Yes, ya damned fool.  
  
Should've left. It was just a good fuck. It has ta be just that.  
  
He shakes me gently.  
  
Can you rough me up a bit, hit me, or just grunt and grab a beer, Remy LeBeau, instead of bein' so sweet? Make it easier on me, please.  
  
Puttin' my defenses and pretenses back up, ah wake'. He's tellin' me ta get dressed, we're gonna be late. Ah watch him get dressed as ah pull together my own clothes and get ready.  
  
He smiles at me, helps zip me up and tilts my head up ta kiss me.   
  
Ah don't want to kiss you, Remy LeBeau, because ah think you are a drug of sorts. Ah can't get hooked on you right now, but ah can't not kiss you either, you'll get suspicious.  
  
Or maybe that's just my excuse.  
  
His tongue is soft and quick, strong yet gentle; his kisses are so artful that they make my toes curl. Ah break the kiss, remindin' him that we're on our way to becoming latecomers to the dinner.  
  
Gathering the little things we need, we step out of the room, where ah'm leavin' all dreams and hopes behind.

* * *

To be continued...


	11. Free for a Second Part 11

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
The characters below are based on the creations of Marvel. I'm not getting paid for this, so put that tho't of suing me away! :D  
  
Vicki Lew | June 2001

**Part 11**

She's gettin' along well with de family, despite all the flustered blabberin' she did on our way here ta Creole Royale.  


Tough to imagine her as some cold-blooded killer, when she's here jokin' with Pere, Mere and de brothers. Dey seem t'like her a lot, which is scary in a way, since dey know dat she ain't just any other femme.   
  
Tough t'imagine dat she's still here wit' me, actually.  
  
I expected her t'be gone when I woke up from our lovemaking, but she was dere. And it meant quite a bit to dis old   
Cajun here, because no other woman ever made me feel comfortable bein' around after The Deed'. One night of hot sex and dat's it. In de mornin', it best t'be gone.  
  
Our eyes meet for a while, and she smiles at me. She's so alive, and it gives me hope dat we could actually pull her out from whatever mess she's in. I don't know much, but I do know dat de people after her want her dead. She places her hand on mine and squeezes it gently as she stands up t'leave de table.  
  
Her hands run over my shoulders and she bends low to give me a searing kiss on my lips, one so hot that it drew whoops and wolf-whistles from de boys. Her stroking tongue finally let up, and allowed me to recover from de dizzyin' experience, she smiles again, and I watched in a stupor as she made her way to the restrooms.  


* * *

  
As soon as the cubicle door closed, she retched into the toilet, giving in to that gut-wrenching dread that she had been battling since they left the hotel. Her eyes teared up, partly induced by the vomiting, but mostly from her sorrow and regret. 

That kiss was probably the very last inch of affection, or even love that she would ever be able to give. Sabine could only hope that it didn't give any of her intentions away; her acting was good, but under these emotional circumstances that she wasn't too good at handling, she truly doubted her facade abilities.  
  
Which was why she had little time to lose. Remy was a smart man, he would figure out her plan soon and come after her. She willed herself to stand and allowed her trained instincts take over. Making sure that there was no one else around in the restroom, she pulled her gun out of her purse, and reached up towards the small frosted window above the toilet, hammering the pane with the butt of her gun in a quick and forceful stroke, shattering it with minimal noise.

* * *

  
I see you've been enjoying yourself quite a bit, commented Portman as he gave Sabine the look-over. He leaned over the car door of her convertible, reached out and adjusted the fallen strap of her dress. You won't look this ravishing after we're done with you, you realise?  
  
Just get on with it, Portman. she said cooly, and voluntarily stepped out of her vehicle. You were never one for bullshit, don't start now,  
  
Two Operatives grabbed her roughly and shoved her into a signature black van. Three other pair of eyes locked on her immediately; they belonged to heavily-armed Operatives.   
  
As Portman got into the van with her, she commented, Thanks for the big turnup at my welcome home party, Portman.  
  
The latter just smiled coldly and retorted, Would you like the same for your funeral, Sabine?  
  
The doors of the van slid closed and they rode back to HQ in deadly silence.  


* * *

  
He crashed his fist through the thin wood of the cubicle door, and then cursed in his native tongue. His head snapped up as he heard approaching footsteps; it was two of his guild members.  
  
Pardon us, our Prince, but she is nowhere t'be found, reported the shorter of the two. We have combed every place possible, de hotel room included,  
  
Remy LeBeau rubbed his sore hand and swore again. He sighed. Dieu, Sabine. Merci, Pierre...Jacque. Go back home, mes amis. I'll handle dis.  
  
His helpers shuffled nervously and backed away, thankful to be dismissed.  
  
Remy looked at the broken window again and rubbed the back of his neck. He should've seen it coming. The kiss was suspicious enough, it was too long, too passionate, as if it were her last.   
  
It would be her bloody last, if he didn't get to her soon.   
  
This was going to be a long night... 

* * *

  
To be continued... 


	12. Free for a Second Part 12

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
The characters below are based on the creations of Marvel. I'm not getting paid for this, so put that tho't of suing me away! :D  
  
Vicki Lew | August 2001

**Part 12**

Sir, she's back, Portman reported as he peered into his superior's office. And in the Dungeon as you requested.  


I suppose you're wondering why we decided against cancelling her despite her disobedience, my boy. Stark let out a cloud of cigar smoke and motioned for Portman to take a seat. It had been a long time since Portman was this curious and unsure of the Organisation's actions, and he did so eagerly.  


Ever heard of the homo superior genetic structure, Portman? The latter nodded. Well, as luck will have it, Operative 357 has it. Which explains her resilience and ability to survive where others have not. Heightened reflexes, sensory abilities, higher tolerance for pain, faster healing periods.  


Rubbing his chin gleefully, Portman mused, We had more of a diamond in the rough than we thought,   


And the time to make full use of this gem has come. The labs have obtained her DNA samples, and Dr Svelsky from Russian HQ will be flying down to conduct the cloning process. Stark announced proudly.  


The younger man choked in surprise. Never did he anticipate the Organisation to delve into supersoldier cloning. He smiled devishlly at the prospect of having such powerful allies.  


And what of Rogue? he asked.  


Stark shrugged. Well, we've gotten all the DNA samples that we need. I don't see why we should risk anything else on her. He leaned in closer to Portman and spoke quietly. Bring her along for the Stanton Industries mission. We need all the manpower we can get. After that, I suppose you know what to do.  


Standing up to leave, Portman said curtly, That would be a definate yes.

* * *

The dark was almost too much to bear.   


To cope she retreated to the inner depths of her mind, where she was in Remy LeBeau's arms. Never had she felt such an intense safeness and warmth, the void in her soul finally filled.   


And lucky her, that one taste was to be her last. An unbearable ache of regret and longing reared its head, attacking her gut. Pushing her previous thoughts away, Rogue sat in the cold dank dirt, deep in meditation for many hours. She feared that if she didn't, she might go a bit crazy from not being able to see her hand before her face, and worse, the very idea she would never be able to experience what might have been with a certain Cajun.  


Her body clock had kept some track of how long she'd been thrown into the Dungeon. Probably 2 or 3 days in the least. The young assassin was still puzzled at why she had escaped a beating upon her surrender.  


Definately not the style of the Organisation when dealing with rogue Operatives. They had to want something from her. She was good at what she did, yes, but not that mind-blowingly fantastic that they'd let her heinous disobedience go unpunished. A rat nibbled at her bare toe, but she hardly felt it, so numb her feet were from the cold. It scuttered away as it heard footsteps from the outside. Sure enough, the footsteps stopped, and the door swung open, making Sabine's eyes tear from the sudden burst of light.  


As her eyes re-accomodated themselves with the light, she could barely make out Portman's tall built. He threw an array of uniforms and equipment at her naked body and snapped before leaving, Get dressed. Briefing in 5 minutes.  


Silently, Sabine did as she was told, her insides frozen with dread as she contemplated her fate.

* * *

Through the mission log camera, Portman watched intently as his Operatives launched their attack on the factory. They worked as a single entity, the way that they had all been trained, and wiped out all those who were unfortunate enough to be working on the night shift this Thursday night.   


He, on the other hand, was safe in the operations vehicle, overseeing everything. Once upon a time, he had been out there on the field, risking his life for a cause he did not commit to. Until his later years, of course, when it all paid off with some well-deserved promotions.  
Tapping a finger to his earpiece, he delegated the next task to the Beta team as they broke through the complex's security, to which they responded immediately.   


And now for you, Sabine, the stony man whispered under his breath as he switched communication channels to the Alpha team. Sabine, take Alpha team to chemical storage, and plant the black boxes.  


On it, sir. she replied flatly.  


Despite having adknowledged Portman's order, for Sabine, the entire sting seemed like an out-of-body experience.   


The hands that gripped the sniper rifle weren't hers, the dead body under her feet wasn't bleeding over her boots, and the people decked in black around her weren't her colleagues'.   


Almost robotically, her body swerved and broke into a run, leading the other five in her team towards their target location. As her hands reached to her belt for the black box explosives, her mind was far away, wondering what Remy LeBeau was doing right this instant. She attached the boxes to the propane tanks and her fingers keyed in the arming code - was he worried about her; was he searching for her...or had he just accepted that she had gone?  


She nodded to the others, and began running back out, leading the team away from the highly explosive tanks. Back in the operations van, Portman saw his chance. The explosives were in position and armed, they were on their way out and better yet, her back was turned to the others. Deftly, he switched to an isolated comm channel, and hissed, 

* * *

Remy LeBeau stood quietly in the dark, waiting for news. His back stiffened as a figure approached; his fingers curled around his throwing daggers, but relaxed when he saw that it was Ratko.  


The stocky man tipped his head in greeting. I got what you want. Now show me my part of bargain, no?  


The thief slipped a ridiculously thick wad of money into his informer's coat jacket, coaxing a smile from Ratko.  


Now spit it out, Ratko. What ya got?  


Stanton Industries just blew up 2 hours ago. My boys tell me that it is not accident, there was surveillance for months before this. People. All black. Need I say more?  


I t'ink I know who you be talkin' about, homme. Remy replied grimly, eyes burning dangerously in the dark.

* * *

  
To be continued... 


	13. Free for a Second Part 13

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
The characters below are based on the creations of Marvel. I'm not getting paid for this, so put that tho't of suing me away! :D  
  
Vicki Lew | August 2001  


**Part 13**  


_Two hours before...  
_

Ya should've seen this comin', girl...Ya're trained for this sorta inside betrayal and trust no one' shit,' Rogue chided herself mentally.

This was reward for not paying attention, she thought as she threw herself to the ground. Failing to dodge the onslaught in time, a bullet catching her in the shoulderblade. The force knocked the wind out of the young woman, and she collapsed to the floor. Rolling over to her side fast, Rogue found cover behind a drinks machine in the corridor. Another spray of bullets came flying by, and she sorted out her options quickly. Her mind was confused as her shoulder burned painfully. 

Reaching over to the wound, her hand came away bloody. She cursed; she'd been shot despite the bulletproof vest. Rogue tore the armour off and inspected it. Biting down on a furious scream, she discovered that the vest was a dud, and threw it aside.  
  
Count the rounds, and take my chances while they reload,' she told herself. Readying her two handguns, she sprang out, hurling herself into the air sideways, and firing at her former team mates. She slid across the hallway as she hit the ground, making her way into a sideroom. Ah know what you're up to, Portman. Your sick little game; ya want me riddled with holes, bleedin' like a stuck pig and unable to move, so that this bunch o'merry men can leave me behind waitin' for the inevitable big blow-up.'  
  
Not if she could help it, of course.  
  
Her assailants followed suit into the room, firing as she lunged for cover amongst the huge steel filing cabinets. Rogue was doing fine until a bullet ricocheted against the metal and lodged itself painfully into her left thigh. For a moment she stumbled but managed to avoid getting hit fatally. Pressing herself behind a cabinet, she rammed new cartridges into her firearms. She looked down at her leg, and cursed when she found that the bullet hadn't managed its exit. It was buried in her thigh.  
  
All that trainin' gone, just because of a man and one night of mindless fuckin'!!' The injured woman didn't know who she was madder at- Remy LeBeau, Portman or her silly self.  
  
Her ears picked up footsteps approaching her, and gut instinct told her to lash out, surprising the Operative and disarming him. She wrapped her arm around his neck and twisted, hard. The man's body dropped lifelessly to the floor. Wasting no time, Rogue fired at the remaining Operatives as she ran, aiming for their heads since hitting the bulletproof vests would prove futile. She took out another of her enemies before another bullet hit her in the side; her wounded leg was slowing her down.  
  
Stumbling out of the room, Rogue limped along the corridor, trying to make her way out of the complex before it blew up. Static crackled over her intercom, and she heard Portman's grating laughter in her ear.   
  
Losing your touch, Sabine? he jeered. Just put the gun to your temple and pull the trigger. It'll be easier on you. Goodbye, Sabine. Over the intercom she could distinctly hear a mechanical voice counting down from five in the background.   
  
Fuck you, Portman!! she screamed as she felt the ground shake with the explosions...Dieu!   


* * *

_Present time..._

I hiss as de red hot metal burns my hand. Kickin' another sheet of shrivelled metal aside, I close my eyes dismally. If she was here when dis place went kaboom, den I guess I could stop searchin'.  
  
Detective Devereaux, one of the boys found something,   
  
I turned to face de young officer, adknowledging my false identity. I strode over to where he pointed and kneeled t'get a closer look. It was a manhole, and its cover had been pushed aside, leavin' it open.   
  
De officer pointed out beside the hole, Got a pretty big pool of blood here, Detective, I dipped m'fingers in de dark liquid. It was blood, alright. Someone must've got outta there through the sewage...We've got a couple of guys checking the area.  
  
I t'ink I know who dat someone is.

* * *

She shook with effort to keep moving, constantly looking around to make sure she was not being followed. Her heart pumped wildly, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She felt light-headed, and everything seemed surreal. She could hardly feel anything, but the coppery tang of blood that kept filling her nostrils told her she was bleeding like the stuck pig, just as Portman had hoped.   
  
Turning into an alley, Rogue decided that she was far enough from the sirens to check on her wounds. A homeless man stared at her, and exited promptly in faer upon seeing the blood.   
  
Ah must be losin' my touch with men,' she joked as she bent down to check the pile of assorted junk the scruffy man had left behind in his haste. Picking out a couple of rags, she slid down slowly to the dusty asphalt and dug out the torch from her utility belt.   
  
She focused on her wounded thigh first, using the rags to form a temporary bandage. The bullet was going to have to come out, but later, not now. Next, she went to the back of her shoulder, stretching to apply another rag to the shot wound. She winced as she did so. Something in her right side fucking hurt; she looked down at her lower torso.  


And froze.  


Adrenaline had prevented her from feeling the huge pice of shrapnel lodged deep between her lower ribs. Blood bubbled as it oozed out of the gaping wound. 

Sabine swore half-heartedly. Gathering her thoughts, she quickly bandaged her shoulder and grabbed the rugged coat that was amongst the junk. Tugging the garment on to hide her state, the wounded woman struggled to her feet and hurried out of the alley.

* * *

  
To be continued... 


	14. Free for a Second Part 14

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

**Disclaimer:**   
The characters below are based on the creations of Marvel. I'm not getting paid for this, so put that tho't of suing me away! :D  
  
Vicki Lew | June 2002  
  
**Part 14  
**  
Oh God, I didn't tell Diane I loved her before I left this morning,' It was the one coherent thought that ran through Dr. Wayne Benson's mind as he stared down the barrel of a gun.  


The woman had burst into his office just as he was about to leave for home. There was no one to help him; his nurse had left early today. Now, all there was to do was tremble in fear and hope that the insurance was enough for his wife and son. The intruder locked the door and shut the blinds, then dragged him to his feet. 

Wayne managed to say, T-take the cash, just please d-don't hurt me!   


He let out a little sigh of relief when the woman pointed the gun away from his head, and dropped heavily into his chair. A drizzle of blood spotted the pristine white floor, and Wayne realized then just how deathly pale the woman was.

Don't want money. Patch me up and you'll live. Get to it, Doc, she emphasized by cocking the gun as she shrugged the ratty coat off one shoulder. 

Quietly, Wayne helped to hoist the stranger onto the examining table. Piece by bloody piece, he removed the soggy rags carefully, gasping at the chunk of metal embedded in her ribcage. 

This is bad. Really bad, miss, he whispered as he cleansed the area around the large wound. You should go to a hospital,  
  
she snapped and waved the gun in warning. Mind your fuckin' business and jus' do what you can. Ya can start with that bullet in my leg, doc, The frightened man moved to ready a syringe of tranquilisers, but she grabbed his wrist roughly. No sedatives or painkillers. Ah can take it, she stated flatly.  


  


Her green eyes flashed angrily as she snarled for him to start working. He wasn't going to argue with an enraged woman with a loaded gun, so he obeyed. Slicing the wound open further, he dug into the flesh as gently as he could with a pair of pincers and extracted the bullet. He was pressing more gauze into the bleeding wound and preparing to stitch it up when he heard the blaring police sirens, getting louder by the second. His patient snapped out of her pain-induced daze and bolted off the table, grabbing an armful of medical supplies as she fled through the back door.  


You'll need to stop the bleeding, he shouted after her as his nurse, who was visibly shaken, appeared in the doorway. 

She had come back for her purse to find the scenario and called the cops. As the first policeman appeared, Wayne couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before the mysterious woman bled to death...

* * *

Rogue knew she was in trouble as she drank thirstily from the glass of juice. Pushing the now-empty container aside, she pulled the coat tighter around her battered body. She'd managed to intimidate another doctor into removing the shrapnel- that had been less than pleasant, definately.   


But still the wound refused to stop bleeding.  


It looked as if she was still going to die like a stuck pig. Not right now though, she hoped. No, she didn't want to do that in a diner out in the middle of dusty desert country. She hadn't stolen a car and driven all this way just to die here.   
  
At least let me get across ta Mexico,' she thought drowsily as she sank deeper into the booth.  
  
Her eyes threatened to close and her head dipped as her thoughts drifted. She was so, so tired. A nap would be such heaven right now, but she was afraid to do so. With her medical situation, it might well be her last.   


Mind if'n I join you? a masculine voice asked.   


Her head snapped to attention instantly; her hand clutched the gun under her coat. A rush of emotions flooded her as Sabine realised who her visitor was.  


she whispered, but caught herself and replaced the hopeful tone with a harsher one. What the fuck are ya doin' here?  


Removing his sunglasses, the dishevelled man glanced at her darkly with his devil eyes and slid into the seat opposite her. Rubbing the dust out of his hair irritably, Remy LeBeau spat back, Lookin' for vous, dat's what de fuck I'm doin' here,  


Ah disappeared for a good reason, LeBeau, Sabine shifted uncomfortably and glanced around nervously. Portman was lookin' for me, and he was gonna massacre you and your entire family if ah didn't turn myself in,  


He nearly growled, My family can take care of demselves. You underestimate us, Rogue. Come wit' me, we can lose Portman!  


He looked at her, at her expressionless face. Her green eyes gleamed with defiance and resolve.   


And then what, LeBeau? You and ah can live happily ever after in a house with goddamn white picket fences? she cajoled cruelly as she leaned closer to him. It was just a good fuck, Cajun...Get over yourself!  


Remy LeBeau's eyes glowered angrily as her words struck home. Reaching over the table, and grabbing her roughly by the arm, the man dragged Sabine to her feet. She hissed as she tore away from his grasp and pulled the gun out on him. Almost immediately, a murmur of alarm fluttered through the neighbouring patrons as they saw the weapon, some already making a hasty exit from the diner.  
  
Remy swore as he caught sight of where her coat parted enough to reveal the blood-soaked mess that lay beneath. He looked at her with pleading eyes and whispered, Ya gotta come wit' me, Rogue. You know how bad it is,  


The assassin stood there unresponsively with the firearm still directed at him.   


What, you gonna shoot me if I grab you, girl?   


In response, she cocked the gun. More squeals of fear escaped from the remaining people in the diner. In her head, a mantra chanted, Don't make me do this...Just leave...please...please...'  


Dis is fuckin' ridiculous, the Cajun ground out as he lunged at her.  


He heard the ear-splitting bang and the next thing he knew, he was on the grubby linoleum floor, clutching his right thigh. Through his rage and disbelief, he felt the pain searing through his leg. She stooped down to look at him. She wanted to help him, wanted to tell him how sorry she was for hurting him. But she didn't.  


Instead, she just stared and repeated, It was just a good fuck.  


With that, she knocked Remy out with the butt of her gun, stepped over his prone form and headed straight for his car.

* * *

The pristine white laboratory was unusually crowded, with labtechs swarming all over like ants in a nest. The tinkling of glass tubes was a common occurance,   
as was the bubbling of unknown liquids.  


Portman took in the sight of all this activity from the observation tower, filled with strange pride. All this, from his Sabine. His heart was oddly heavy at having  
lost his protege, but it was probably just professional pride. He had, after all, invested a good deal of time on her.  
  
Everything going well, Dr Svensky? Portman heard Stark ask the professor via intercom.  
  
Unbelievable, Mr Stark...These samples are perfect, just perfect. I do not forsee any problems, sir.  
  
Taking a long drag on his cigar, Portman smiled at the thought of losing one to gain a hundred.  
  
Perfect.  


* * *

  
To be continued... 


	15. Free for a Second Part 15

**FREE FOR A SECOND**

Disclaimer:   
Not mine. Marvel's. Life sucks.

Note:  
I know. You guys hate me for taking so long. So I made it a lengthy chapter. Thank you for your patience! What the #$&% happened to the 3-parter I wanted to write with this plot?? ;)

Vicki Lew | July 2003

Part 15

"Shoulda known he'd screw this up," The stocky man groused as he leaned against the doorframe. "Anythin' with a pretty face, tits and a skirt and the punk ceases ta function...He-"

"Logan, please. Shut. Up." The redhead working on Remy LeBeau's gun wound said dryly and rolled her eyes.  
The less-than-happy Acadian sneered and mentioned something about a pot calling the kettle black. Logan ignored him and chewed on his unlit cigar, deep in thought.

"Just sayin' I should've gone. I know first-hand what it's like, after all," 

Ororo Munroe appeared from the cockpit looking quite unhappy as well. She put her hand on her waist and glared at Remy. "We will be landing soon. Remy's car has stopped moving. Let us hope she is still alive,"

With that, she slid back into the cockpit.

As Jean Grey finished bandaging Remy's thigh, she couldn't help but say, "Whatever possessed you to bring her to the Thieve's Guild, Remy? You know you were supposed to convince her to come to the Mansion,"

"No hanky panky at the Mansion, that's why," Logan muttered.

Ignoring the little man, Remy rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Didn't t'ink she 'ppreciate jumpin' from one hot pan t'nother, I guess."

"So ya decided to make the decisions for her, eh?" Logan looked at him darkly. "You just made things more difficult for her. She's not gonna be happy- that is, if she's still breathin',"

"Why don't we find out?" Jean added as she glanced out of the window to see the Blackbird preparing to land.

* * *

I was the first off the aircraft with Gumbo, the idiot struggling with a crutch, not far behind me. 

The Arizona desert was dusty; it wreaked havoc on my sensitive sense of smell. Despite that, I could smell the rusty tang of blood, both old and new. 

The Firebird was looking a bit worse for wear, having run off the asphalt and into a sandy ditch. The bonnet looked like an accordion, and the windscreen was barely holding together.

"Rogue?" I said, and stuck my head through the passenger window.

The girl was slumped over the steering wheel, a nasty gash pumping a steady stream of blood down her temple- a fresh addition to her other wounds. 

I flexed my forearms, a trigger that caused deadly claws of shiny metal to slide out from between my knuckles. I got to work on the stuck metal with the blades, carefully freeing up the space around Rogue.

As I got round to the last of the metal, I heard the all too familiar sound of a gun cocking. I couldn't help but grin as the word 'feisty' went through my head. 

Looking up, I met a pair of bleary green ones, struggling to stay open. I let my eyes inch down slightly and caught sight of the bloodied gun barrel aiming at my gut.

I looked at her wryly and said, "I'm tryin' to save yer life here, ya know,"

"Well, ah don't know that for sure, do ah?" She replied saucily, despite being on the verge of passing out yet again. "Back off."

"Rogue?" The Cajun called out as he stuck his head from behind my shoulder. "Put de gun down, femme,"

Silence.

What, no sassy remark? I realised that she was out cold again, not that I'm complaining. 

"Come on Gumbo, let's get her patched up."

* * *

Lights. 

Too bright.

Head.

Splitting in two.

Lungs tried to take a deep breath, only to succeed in shooting a sharp, stabbing pain through the broken ribs that enclosed them.

Sabine whimpered softly as her brain, her nerve endings and senses began to clear. The pain that seemed to affect each and every inch of her battered body flared and it was truly unpleasant.

Sadly, she ought to be used to waking up from injuries like these, but she wasn't. Physical pain just wasn't one of those things a person could ever get used to.

Her eyes snapped open as it dawned on her that she was in an unfamiliar environment. Her training kicking into full gear, the ex-assassin groped around for any available weaponry but came up empty.

As fast as she could, she hoisted herself up into a sitting position, muscles and wounds protesting all the way. Her footing fumbled when she slid off the bed, but only for a split-second. 

Escape and evade- that's your priority now, Sabby. Screw the pain, ya can bitch 'bout it later.

Sabine removed the IV needles from her arms hastily and took a good look at her surroundings. A sinking feeling began in her stomach.

No windows, no air vents, no apparent means of escape.

All she had were the bed that was bolted to the floor, the IV drip, the usual facilities and a wall mirror; she was guessing that it was made of plastic. 

Limping her way to the door, her fingers sought a gap or a groove so that she could perhaps pry the door open, but she found none. 

There was one more option.

With a jerk, she tore the IV tube from the bag. Winding each end of the tube around her hands, she formed a crude garrotte. Then she stood with her back against the wall, next to the door, and simply waited. It was probably an hour later that she heard footsteps approaching. Flexing the tube in her hands, she prepared herself for the attack.

The door slid open and she pounced on the intruder. The tube looped easily over the man's head and with skilled precision, she twisted the makeshift weapon, cutting off his air supply. A glint of silver caught her eye, but before she could react, her victim had sliced through the tube with the jack knife, escaping with lightning speed.

Immediately, she threw a punch at the man, who countered the blow smoothly. 

"Thinkin' of goin' somewhere?," The man said suddenly.

Sabine stopped mid-kick to get a good look at her opponent. She dropped her stance slowly and let what was left of the IV tube fall to the floor.

Remy LeBeau limped through the doorway and into the cell, glaring at her all the while. Despite her best efforts, her heart surged with joy at the sight of him.

"You're lucky ta have amazin' reflexes, LeBeau."

She hid her surprise well; he'd give her that. She had hardly reacted emotionally to his sudden appearance. She did, however, glance at his wounded thigh, but said nothing.

Following her gaze, he said a little too quietly and calmly, "Remy will heal jus' fine, don't ya worry." He couldn't help but inject some venom into his words. "But I doubt ya'd lose any sleep if'n ya did cripple me back there in Arizona, eh chere?"

"Ah gave ya fair warning." Sabine said, narrowing her eyes. "You were askin' fo--"

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the wall mirror next to him.

The reflection was a sight to behold. 

Her face was covered with scrapes and bruises, her mouth nursed a nasty split lip. Her right eye was almost swollen shut. Looking down the front of her thin medical gown, she found scattered stitches adorning her torso.

And those were just the ones she could see.

Then there was that particular row of sutures that spanned 3 inches across her belly. It was the shrapnel wound that had nearly bled her to death. The young woman stared at the sutures, then at the many gauze bandages that held her battered body together. 

"Ah should be dead," She blurted out to herself, almost angrily.

The Cajun moved to stand by her side. "Oui, ya were close t'dat." Gently, he fingered a wild curl of her hair, smoothing it between his fingers. "Too close."

Getting over the shock of the shape she was in, she blinked. 

Suddenly, she could feel the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck, his body almost touching hers. She pulled away as if burnt.

"So…" Her voice, huskier than usual from things remembered, dispersed the awkward moment. "Where am ah exactly?"

"Xavier's Institute for the Gifted."

* * *

A school.

He brought me , a wanted woman, to a school of all places. Ah looked at him like he had gone stark ravin' mad, but ah held my tongue.

Instead ah pressed for more information. "Gifted as in?"

Shruggin', Remy gave a very casual "Gifted as in mutants. Like moi."

Ah didn't like where this was going, so I feigned total ignorance. "And how do ah fit in this pretty picture?"

He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes jus' the slightest bit. 

"Don' play coy with me, Rogue." He drawled lazily and nodded towards the mirror. "You take 'nother good look at y'self in dat mirror dere an' tell me ya never suspected dat ya were somethin' special."

Frankly speakin', ah never thought of myself as bein' a mutant, just lucky…And really healthy.

"Like y'said, ya should be dead. But ya ain't."

"So what if ah'm a mutant? Ah can take lotsa damage and ah heal fast. Don't need no schoolin' for lame-ass powers like that."

He took out a device from his coat pocket and held it up for me to see. On the small screen ah saw video images of a chocolate-skinned woman with white hair flyin' through the sky, lightning bolts flashin' from her fingertips. Then a man, with weird looking sunglasses firing ruby-red laser blasts from his eyes.

My eyes darted from the screen ta Remy's hands. The playing cards he held were glowing with energy. He was reminding me of what he could do.

Ah knew whatever ah saw on-screen was real. They weren't some fancy computer graphic effects, those lightning bolts and laser blasts.

Hard ta believe, but if Remy could do what he does with those cards…Somehow ah was convinced.

"Dey're just some of de X-men, a group of mutants dat help dose in trouble. I'm part of dat group too," Remy said.

Ah sat myself down on the bed.

So ah'm a mutant. Remy too. And he's part of some mutant band of superheroes.

One and one make two, Sabby.

* * *

Forget about pain.

All she felt right now was rage. It burned as strongly as the throbbing headache that was surfacing in her head.  
He could see it in her eyes, and the tension in her body. When this girl got angry, she really got angry; her temper had flared up in less than two seconds flat.

She was almost snarling, her Mississippi accent thick with anger. "Ah see it now, LeBeau. Ya've been casin' me from Day One, tryin' ta recruit me into this X-men shit. Takin' care o'me, so that the merchandise don't get too badly damaged??"

"I took care of ya 'cos I cared, not 'cos of de X-men thing." Remy stated simply.

The vein in her left temple ticked and pulsed; her head felt like it was being jackhammered. Twisting the sheet in her fists, she spat, "Ya really expect me ta believe that? Who the fuck would risk his neck like that jus' cos he liked a girl he just met?"

"We wanted t'get you away from Portman, Rogue, ta help you be free from dem. Ya don't realise it, but de Organisation ain't even workin' for de government, dey be workin' against it!" He snapped back. "I was s'posed ta talk ya into comin' back wit' me, but I took ya to N'Orleans instead cos I wanted t'be de one t'get to know ya, take care o'ya and…"

"Fuck me?" She offered.

Remy winced.

"Ah'm nothin' but a piece o'meat ta all o'ya!" She smashed a fist into the headboard of the metal bed, leaving a prominent dent in it. "Ah'm sick of it, y'hear? Sick of it!"

Rogue screamed and punched the bed again. 

The headboard gave in with a wail and her fist shot through, leaving a gaping hole in it. The Cajun stared a touch dumbfoundedly, as she got to her feet and ripped the entire bed free of its bolts and flung it straight at him.

Barely making it, Remy dove aside for his life; the crib crashed against the wall. It was crushed beyond recognition.

"Somethin's happenin' with her powers! Gimme some backup!" Remy yelled into his communicator just before the enraged woman pitched the IV stand his way.

Rogue clutched her head and folded to the ground. "What did you do to me?" She screamed in agony.

"Y'true powers, girl…Dey surfacin'!" Remy shouted back as he dodged more projectiles. "Don' fight it!"

"You bastard!" She roared as she launched herself at him.

Merde! He thought. She gotten too close!

In a shriek of anger, fear and pain, Rogue grabbed him by the throat and thrust him against the wall, concrete cracking under the assault. Just as suddenly as she had grabbed him, she let go and crumpled to the ground. He fell unceremoniously to the floor, massaging his bruised throat and choking.

Looking past the huge tranquilliser dart in the fallen woman's back, Remy saw his comrade, Jean Grey, a disapproving look on her face.

"I warned you against coming here alone, Gambit." She snapped at the panting man as she bent down to take note of Rogue's pulse. "You endangered yourself and Rogue,"

Face tight with a mix of regret and irritation, Remy dragged himself up from the floor and gritted out, "Save it f'someone who gives a shit 'bout what ya say, Jean."

With that, he stormed out of the cell.

* * *

It was her, right down to the single last detail.

If this was the fruit of five sleepless days and nights, imagine what could be done in the near future.

He gave the room one last satisfied glance, then turned the lights off.

* * *

Rogue awoke to find herself 'pleasantly' bound to the bed she was lying on. Testing the metal bonds, she found herself unable to break free despite her best efforts.

"They're adamantium shackles; so don'cha bother."

Her eyes darted to the direction of the gruff voice and found a rather scruffy and stocky-looking man lounging in the chair at the foot of her bed.

"You." She said, recognising him as the man who had tried to get her out of the car wreckage. "You a mutant too?"

"Name's Logan." Bringing his right arm up into view, he let the claws spring lose from his forearm. "Other than these toys, I got accelerated healin' and get pretty hard ta kill."

Rogue stared at the shiny, dangerous-looking blades. 

"So yeah, I'm a mutant too."

"So what's in it for ya, being part of the X-men?" She asked.

Logan shrugged and said, "Somethin' to do, I guess."

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "Ah find that hard ta believe, Logan. Ah just left the Organization; ah am not getting' myself trapped in another bullshit gig. The X-men will never get me on the team…Ah'd rather die!" 

Retracting his claws, the older man put a hand on her shoulder. She tried to shrug it off, but her bonds didn't allow it.

"Listen, Rogue. I know you're pissed at what's happened, but darlin', I know what you're goin' through, every single bit of it."

She frowned. 

"I wasn't always part of the X-men. I used ta be on your team."

"My team?" She repeated after him in confusion.

"Yeah. The Organization…I was a Class 5 Operative." He confessed.

She furrowed her brows, but her eyes widened as his words fell into place. "You're the Wolverine?" 

Logan allowed himself the tiniest smile at her response, and at the mention of his old codename. "Wolverine? Ain't heard that in a long while, girl. But yeah, that was me, but my op days are long over."

Putting her guard back up, she muttered, "Why should ah believe ya?"

The stocky man shrugged. "I don't really give a fuck."

"Then why are ya here…Logan?" She emphasized on his name.

Logan suddenly bristled, and put his snarling face right up to her own. "I'm here 'cos I'll be fuckin' damned if those goons take another field day in--"

That's quite enough, Logan. The voice in the man's head cut him short; he held his tongue and leaned back against the chair.

Sorry, Prof. Logan projected back.

Rogue narrowed her eyes. Something had happened, but she didn't know what. 

"Ain't ya gonna finish that sentence, sugar?" She asked. "Ya couldn't possibly leave me hangin' like this,"

"Look, just believe me if ya want, or don't." Logan snapped and went back to chewing his unlit cigar irritably. 

There was an awkward silence after that.

Logan was brooding; Rogue was thinking. 

She finally broke the silence and confessed. "So maybe ah believe ya. They tried ta keep your escape hush-hush, but one o'the older operatives told me about ya- the only one that got away. Ya gave me hope that someday ah'd be able t'break free too," 

"It wasn't easy. The only reason why they stopped comin' after me was 'cos I fuckin' killed whatever they threw at me, and managed to survive the whole she-bang. Healin' factor comes in real handy when people are tryin' ta gut you." Logan said.

Plus, I was fortunate enough ta bump into Professor Xavier. I joined the X-men and gained their protection. The Organization knows not to go up against mutants, 'cos we'd kick their asses in a second. They wouldn't be able ta trace my location if they tried anyways."

"Why not?" Rogue questioned.

Logan blinked, like there was something going on in his head. He smiled a little smile, then got up to leave.

"Q and A's over fer today, darlin'." He said simply, then stalked off towards the door.

"Dammit, just tell me! What am ah, what's wrong with me?" Rogue hollered and struggled against her bonds. "Don't ya dare leave me like this!"

She was furious, but the four walls in the infirmary didn't really care.

* * *

To be continued...


End file.
